Ashes in the Morning
by twilightsgrace23
Summary: Four years ago, Bella's life was ruined by a tragic accident. She lost her boyfriend and three months of her life in one fell swoop. Desperate for answers and closures, she gets the chance when her ex-boyfriend Jacob reaches out to her.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

A brief vibration sent my phone skittering across the desk. Reaching for the distracting device, I typed my password in and checked the notifications.

Dragging the bar down, I glanced at the message, my breath stalling in my throat at the name; a name I hadn't thought about in years, a name that – as soon as my eyes skimmed it – conjured a thousand and one memories, some incredible and some heartbreakingly awful.

With shaking fingers, I tapped his name and read the message.

 _Hey Bella, it's been such a long time, I know, but your name popped up on my feed this morning and I don't know, it was almost like the universe told me it was time. It has been entirely too long since we've talked and…well, I miss you. I missed you, Bella. I know we didn't leave things on good terms the last time we saw each other, and I know that was my fault and I need you to know how incredibly sorry I am for that. I never should've left that way, never should have walked away from you that night. I'd like to see you, to apologize in person. I'll be in town for two weeks, let me know. I hope you're doing well._

My heart in my throat, I reread the message, twice, and just to be sure I wasn't crazy, a third time. When I was sure I hadn't hallucinated the whole thing, I closed the message and powered off my phone.

Jacob Black, the devil of my nightmares and angel of my daydreams. Why couldn't he go away permanently? I swear, just when I started to forget him something happened to remind me of everything we almost had and now never would.

Taking a deep breath to calm my raging heart, I slowly exhaled through my nose. _God why now?_

 _Because I'm completely miserable, that's why_ , I answered myself. Jake has a way of knowing when I'm miserable and ripe for the picking. He's got a goddamn bat signal that pings every time I'm unhappy and he swoops in to make it "better" but always leaves me more miserable than I began with.

The squeaking of wheels caught my attention and I turned, smiling automatically at the dark head peeking around the cubicle wall. "Hey neighbor, what's with all the huffing and puffing? Trying to blow the place down?"

I grinned at my best friend and cubicle neighbor. "Are you busy?"

Alice waved her hand dismissively in the direction of her computer and rolled into my space, coming to a stop next to me. "What's up?"

"I got a message," I said cryptically.

"From?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

I tapped my fingers on the desktop. If I told Alice, that made it real, it meant I had to make a decision about what to do about Jake's message. I had to do something regardless, but I wanted it to be my decision, free of outside influence.

Tugging my lip between my teeth, I gnawed at it while she stared expectantly at me, her fingers picking at a loose thread on her pants. "Fine," I spit out. "It was from Jake. He said I popped up in his news feed this morning and that it's been too long since we talked-"

"No joke," she cut in. "You guys haven't talked in almost four years."

"I know!"

"So what, he just decided to drop you a note to see how you were?" she demanded.

I shook my head no, working my lip back between my teeth, then released it with a sigh. "He wants to apologize for that night four years ago. In person," I added.

Alice sucked in a breath and shook her head, her dark hair falling into her eyes. "No, Bella, I forbid it!"

I bit back a smile and said, "You can't forbid it, you're my friend, not my mom."

"As your friend, I can, and I do, forbid it. He is bad news. You know it, I know, hell even the universe knows it." Alice reached across the space between us and laid her hand on my arm. "Bad things happen when you two get together. And you're married now. It is a completely different ballgame between you two. Whatever you had is over, it's dead. It never was, and now it never can be."

Slowly I close my eyes and take a deep breath. She was right. Of course she was right. Jake was my personal drug of choice, the one thing I could never say no to, the only thing I wanted in the world more than I wanted my next breath. Opening my eyes, I took in my friend's concerned expression and nodded in agreement. "He is toxic to me," I admitted. "But what if he wants to be friends? I can be a friend to him, can't I?"

Alice shook her head no and said, "Sweetie, you guys started out as friends. Then all the lines became blurred, you fell for him, he fell for you. He fell for someone else, you never did. Even now, there is some miniscule part of you that still loves him." She sat back, folded her arms across her chest and stared at me, analyzing me. "I'm right, aren't I? That's why you have such a hard time being happy with Paul, because deep down you never got over Jake."

Behind us, a gravelly throat was cleared. "Ladies, I believe you're supposed to be working, not hanging out gossiping. Miss Brandon, if you'll please return to your cubicle. Ms. Lahote, I need those reports by the end of the day." Mr. Newton, our boss, turned crisply on his heel and stalked down the hall, stopping to harass a few of my coworkers on his way to his office.

Alice scooted her chair toward the opening of my cubicle, shooting me a look that said, "This conversation isn't over," as she rolled away.

Turning back to my computer, I tried to focus on the report open in front of me but my phone, sitting next to my keyboard, called to me like a siren to a sailor, the song tempting, pleading with me to crash the ship that was my life into the rocky shore that was Jake Black.

With trembling fingers, I reached for it, skimming the cool glass surface. The screen came to life, showing the time and prompting me to enter my password.

 _No!_ I thought, wrenching open a drawer and sweeping the device inside. Slamming the drawer shut, I shook my head and focused on my work. I could still feel the pull, the throbbing of my pulse at my neck, the desire to pull up his profile and snoop through the last four years of his life.

Tension built behind my eyes, the beginning of a headache forming. I rolled my neck, popping a few joints and rubbed my temples.

I can pretend he didn't contact me, I told myself. I can act like I never got the message. I don't need an apology from him. Everything Jake needed to say to me, he said four years ago and his message was received loud and clear.

I was okay without him, I told myself. I wasn't happy with Paul, that much was true, but it wasn't necessarily his fault. My feelings towards him were truly a case of 'it's not you, it's me.'

Paul was a good guy, I could admit that. He worked hard, he provided for me financially, he tried to provide emotionally, except there was always something that held his attention better than I ever could, despite my best efforts. And trust me; I have tried every trick listed in the book. I've strived to love him, but sadly, the best I could muster is a deep affection, like the kind for a dog or distant relative. I enjoyed his company; talking to him was something I could do for hours, he's an amazing conversationalist – when he tries - and a decent person; I just never felt 'it;' that spark, that burning desire to have him all to myself, the kind of fire that consumes your soul and leaves you decimated after the blaze dies.

I had it with Jake. Oh boy did I have it with Jake, but never Paul. He made me warm and tingly, Jake ignited me, I burned like a phoenix and rose from the destruction as this emotionless thing that could only fake the feelings.

Okay, I told myself, time to focus. No more thinking about Jake, or Paul.

With a determined nod, I delved into the reports piling up in my inbox and got to work.

I let myself into a dark and empty house that night. Flicking on the lights as I entered and locking the door behind me. In my purse, my phone rang. Digging it out, I swiped the screen and said, "Hey babe, how are you?" as I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag down next to them.

Padding across the carpet to the kitchen, Paul's honeyed voice filtered across the miles and through the earpiece. I could hear the grumble of his boat in the background and a high pitched beeping.

"Hi sweetheart, I'm doing alright. How was your day?"

Pulling open the fridge, I peered inside. "It was…productive, I suppose. Newton yelled at Alice and me for talking, but then again what else is new."

Paul chuckled before cursing softly under his breath. "Goddamned swells," he grumbled. A heavy thumping drifted over the line accompanied by the faint whispers of a muttered, "Idiots."

"Is it a bad time?" I questioned.

"No, Bell, just one of the guys not watching what he's doing. Tell me more about your day."

Sighing quietly, I pull lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers and a few other things out to make a salad. I hated this line of questioning. My days were always the same; get up, go to work, work, come home to an empty house, fix something for dinner, put on pajamas and veg out in front of the television until it was time to go to bed. "I got a message from an old friend," I told him, cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear as I washed the vegetables. Setting them aside, I turned the radio on and pulled out a cutting board.

"Anyone I know?" he asked.

"No," I replied, slicing the cucumber. "Just an old friend from high school who wants to get together and catch up."

Lie number one. And two.

"Well that sounds like it would be fun. You should get together with your friend," he suggested. "It might be good for you."

"I'll think about," I told him. "I haven't seen her in forever, it might be awkward."

Lie number three.

"You should see her, Bella," he insisted. "Alice is the only friend you have and I think you need more. You need to get out and do things when I'm not home."

"I do "do things,"" I exaggerated. "And I like having a tiny circle of friends; there's less drama that way."

I could practically hear Paul roll his eyes. "If you say so," he finally conceded.

"I do."

I chopped in silence, tossing the vegetables into a bowl all the while listening to him breathe on the other end of the line. Finally I said, "Well, I'm getting ready to eat dinner. Do you want to stay on the phone?"

"No," he sighs. "I should probably go, the weather is pretty bad out here and some of the new guys aren't that great yet. I'll call you tomorrow night, okay?"

"Alright," I told him. "Love you."

"I love you too, bye."

"Bye." I disconnected the call and dropped my phone on the counter. Grabbing my dinner, I headed into the living room, sank down onto the couch, setting the plate down on the coffee table and grabbing my laptop.

Logging on, I pulled up Jake's message and read it for the fourth time. Then I clicked his name and pulled up his profile.

 _Dear Lord he was still gorgeous_ , I thought as his profile picture loaded. His onyx eyes stared straight into the camera as he sat in a bar, left hand curled around what was most likely a glass of Sam Adam's Boston Ale. A new to me tattoo peeked out from below the sleeve of the gray tee he wore. His strong, square jaw was covered by a thick dark beard that made my lady parts stand up and pay attention. The only thing that still resembled the Jake that I knew was his mahogany hair, cut in the same way he always wore it; long enough to run your fingers through and grab a small handful in the front and shorter in the back, faded on the sides.

Pointing my mouse over his picture, I clicked it and swiped to the next picture. Jake, shirtless and sporting a set of abs and a hip indention that made most women lose their minds. Clicking the next picture, I sucked in a breath as a photo of he and I appeared.

Leaning in closer, I stared at our young faces, squinting against the harsh glare of the summer sun reflecting off the ocean. We were sixteen in the picture, it was the end of the school year and I'd left school early after finishing an end of the year exam; instead of going home, I'd slid into the passenger seat of Jake's beat up pickup truck and gone to the beach.

Minutes before this picture was taken, he kissed me for the first time. With shaking fingers, I reached out and traced our faces on the screen, unwittingly, tears filled my eyes.

Quickly I swiped them away as they slid down my cheeks. My eyes filled again as pain ripped through my chest. Fifteen years of heartache spilled out of my heart. Fifteen years of waiting for him and wanting him, fifteen years of hoping and then being denied.

The pain subsided as an angry fire lit in my spirit. I want my apology, I thought bitterly. I want him to look me in the eye and tell me he was sorry for breaking my heart time after time.

Opening the browser again, I found my messages and started to compose one of my own in response.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 **Fourteen Years Ago**

The quad was swarming with teenagers, fresh faced and tanned skinned. Parading around fashionably in their first day back to school clothes, clean backpacks clinging to their sun burnt backs. The early September sun was still warm, even at 7:15 in the morning as I leaned against the faded red brick wall.

Watching people was my favorite thing to do before class, especially on the first day of school. You could always pick out the freshman, they walked around bewildered; baby ducks stranded on the side of the road looking for their mother.

As my eyes scanned the crowd, they landed on a guy who stood a head taller than most of the people in the courtyard. Our eyes met for a brief second before he grinned, dropped his chin and glanced away. Leaning over, I elbowed Alice and pointed in his direction. "Who's that?"

Alice sat up taller and glanced his way. "No idea," she shrugged. "Must be freshmeat. He's cute though."

"Yeah," I replied, sagging back against the walls, my eyes still on him. "He is."

When the first bell rang, Alice and I stood up; dusting the heat baked grass off the backs of our jeans and headed towards our first class. Taking our seats, I surveyed the room gazing around. As the warning bell rang, a lone figure breezed through the door, stopped, spotted the only empty seat in front of me and sighed.

It was tall guy from the quad. Reaching over, I poked Alice and smiled. She glanced up, smirking at me as he loped towards us. As he approached, I realized just tall he was. Pushing at least six foot, his golden skin told of a summer spent on the back of a surf board. Caramel strands of sun lighted hair hung shaggily across his forehead, his dark eyes appeared almost black in the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.

"Hey," he said in a deep baritone, dropping his bag to the floor with a clunk before folding his long legs beneath the undersized desk.

"Hi," Alice and I breathed in unison.

I turned toward her, using my hair to hide my face and bit my lip, my eyes going wide. Alice nodded, smiling hugely. Oh this year was going to be interesting, I thought as the teacher stood before the class commanding attention.

She was reciting the same first day of school rhetoric that every teacher spouted every year for as long as I remembered. I stared blankly at the front of the room, willing the day to be over, already missing the three carefree months of lying in the backyard with a fashion magazine and the radio, baking in the sun until my skin turned the color of caramel.

When the bell rang, kids swarmed from the room. Alice and I made our escape right behind tall guy. He stopped in front of me without warning. Not paying attention, I slammed into his back, stumbled falling to the floor. He whirled around, eyes wide.

"Oh crap, I'm sorry," he murmured, extending his hand towards me.

As I grabbed it, I wanted to feel sparks when our hands met, a zinging connection or some crap that all the books I read described. There was nothing, just his warm hand dwarfing mine as his fingers closed around mine. Pushing up, I thanked him.

"Do you know where this class is?" he asked me, pointing to his schedule.

I glanced down, nodding. "Follow me," I told him as I pushed my way through the throng of people clogging the hallway. Tall guy followed obediently, Alice heading up the rear. I rounded the corner at the end of the hall, plowing through a group of freshman loitering near a bank of lockers.

"Hey watch it!" a tiny blonde shrieked.

"Piss off freshmeat," I hollered back.

Alice snickered behind me. I rolled my eyes and kept heading down the hall. Conveniently we had the next class together as well.

"Here we go," I told him motioning toward the classroom.

"Thanks."

"No problem," I replied. "It just so happens this was on my way." I waved goodbye to Alice and entered the classroom, taking a seat at one of the empty tables. Tall guy followed me, sitting down beside me.

"This is your class too?"

"Nah, I just enjoy stalking hot guys and pretending to be in their classes," I confided.

He rolled his eyes and chuckled. "You," he pointed at me, "Are a smart ass. What's your name?"

"Who wants to know?" I retorted.

He leaned his forearms on the table and leaned in closer to me. "I do, obviously" he stated sarcastically.

"Well in that case," I shot back mimicking his posture. Trying to stare into his eyes was the same as trying to stare straight into the sun during an eclipse but I held his gaze, waiting to find out if he would break first.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" he murmured, my eyes falling to his lips; lips that were too pretty to be on boy.

"Maybe. Or it could be I just know better than to fall prey to those incredibly pretty eyes of yours. I bet you use them to break hearts left and right, and quite frankly, I'd rather not be your next victim."

I sat back, congratulating myself on playing it cool. Tall guy, however, appeared slightly surprised that his game hadn't worked. Smirking at him, I dared him to push back. What he didn't know was that my words were battling against my teeth, shrieking to be let free, to spill my name forth and give it all – everything he'd ever want and anything he'd ask from me – to him.

"Touché," he murmured softly. "I concede the round, to you. But you should know," he leaned in toward me, so close I could smell the sunshine on his skin, fresh and clean. "I don't give up, and I never surrender. You'll tell me your name, one way or another."

I fought the shiver that started in my toes, blazing across my skin like a California wild fire. He leaned back and turned his back to me, facing the front of the room. I spent the next forty five minutes staring at the back of his head wondering what I'd just started with this guy.

At lunch, the cafeteria was packed with students. Alice and I managed to snag a couple of seats at a table in the corner. Sitting across from each other, I leaned my elbows on the table and waited for her to divulge any information she might have gathered about Tall Guy.

Slowly she squirted ketchup on her tray, leisurely dragged a French fry through it before popping it into her mouth and chewing methodically.

"Come on," I hissed. "Tell me what you found out!"

Alice swallowed and smiled, her expression mirroring the cat that got the cream. "Okay," she conceded holding her hands up. "His name is Jake Black. He's a transfer from Pace Island High, a sophomore same as us."

"That's all?" I quipped in disbelief. "That's all we've managed to find out?"

Alice nodded at me, shrugging. "What else are you looking for?"

I sighed in defeat. "I have no idea. He got inside my head Alice, like really in there." I tapped at my temples. "Right here. He is lodged in there. Every time I blink all I see is that sexy smile. Oh and that hair. Jesus, that hair makes me want to throw my promise to my dad out the window and trade in my 'V' card."

She giggled and nodded. "He is ridiculously hot," she agreed.

"I know," I sighed, tugging my fingers through my hair. "Too hot."

"Have you had any more classes together?"

"No," I told her. "That was extremely considerate of administration, because I honestly don't think I can make it through the rest of the year if he is; I'll die. My vagina will literally explode."

When I was thirteen my dad sat me down one night after school and had the birds and bee's conversation with me. When he was done, he made me promise to never have sex until I was married because if I did, I would wind up pregnant, and it would break his heart.

He and my mom had me when they were seventeen, and she passed four years later from ovarian cancer. I solemnly promised him I would wait, that I wouldn't have sex. Three years later, I was kicking myself for agreeing; knowing now that marriage was too far away and every particle of my being would explode if I didn't get my hands on the first available penis a.s.a.p.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Opening my eyes, I saw Jake sitting directly across from me at the table behind mine. He smiled slowly, his dark eyes glowing with mischief. Lifting his pizza to his mouth, he took a bite, chewed leisurely, his eyes never leaving mine. Slowly, his tongue slid over his bottom lip.

Aw hell, I thought, my heart leaping to a gallop. Tearing my eyes from his, I glanced down at my tray, suddenly not hungry. Alice glanced at me, her expression concerned.

"You okay?"

"Mhmm," I mumbled.

"What's wrong? Is Emmett chewing with her mouth open behind you or something?" She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes landing on Jake. "Oh," she drawled turning around. "I get it. Is he messing with you?"

"He's messing with my hormones," I grumbled.

Alice snorted, popping a fry into her mouth. "Girl, you have to get a grip on those things. He's just a guy. There are literally hundreds of them here, in this very room."

Thankfully the bell rang. Quickly, I stood grabbing my tray. Rushing toward the trash can, I dumped my uneaten lunch in the bin and set my tray in the window. Hurrying out of the cafeteria I practically sprinted to my next class.

The rest of the afternoon's classes were free from the dark eyed demon that seemed hell bent on torturing me. When the bus finally dropped me off on the corner by my house later that day, Alice and I walked down the street toward our houses. When we reached mine, I waved bye and headed up the driveway.

Letting myself in, I dropped my backpack on the kitchen table and raided the refrigerator. Grabbing a can of soda and a string cheese, I flopped down on the couch, clicking on the TV and changing the station to MTV.

While the TV played in the background, I flipped through the latest edition of Cosmopolitan magazine that had come in the mail the day before. A few pages in I found a quiz called _How To Tell If He's Really Into You_. I grabbed a pen and read the first question.

Rolling my eyes, I circled the third answer.

Scanning the second question, I circled the first answer.

This is dumb, I thought. I can't take some stupid quiz to find out if some guy I've known for seven hours likes me.

And yet I finished the rest of the questions and added up my answers. Cosmo said I should give him a shot, he might like me.

Closing the magazine, I set it on the coffee table and sat back, tucking my knees under me. Why was Jake Black getting to me this way?

A voice in my head, the one I always thought sounded similar to my mom, whispered, "It's because it's your first crush. He's cute, he's new, he's a mystery. You're intrigued and want to find out more about him. That's all."

I sighed, wishing my mom was still here. I'd give anything right now to go into their room, lie down on the bed and have her give me all the advice she had.

Life was funny that way, missing something you never had and barely remembered. But when I did miss her, the longing was a hole in my heart that would never be filled. I got up and walked down the short hallway, standing outside of their bedroom door.

My hand resting on the rough wood, I pushed the door open and stepped in. my dad hadn't made many changes over the years; the robe she wore every morning still hung on the back of her vanity chair, her bottles of perfume still lined the tabletop. I lifted one and opened it, inhaling the scent. It was the scent I always attributed to her. Taking the bottle, I spritzed some on her pillow, capped the bottle and returned it to its place.

I lay on the bed, my head on her pillow, and closed my eyes against the tears forming. One escaped and dropped on the pillow. Sliding my hand under it, I pulled it close and squeezed tightly, clinging to the pillow as if it was my mother and not a fabric sack full of fluff, tears sliding down my face giving way to tiny hiccupping sobs.

I let them come, let my body shake with the loss and pain, released all the feelings I kept bottled up inside until I felt nothing again but the familiar loneliness. I imagined her arms around me, holding me as I cried myself hoarse on her side of the bed. Warmth seeped across my shoulder and a soft voice murmured, "Bella? Honey are you awake?"

My eyes flew open, taking in the shadowed figure sitting beside me on the bed. "Dad?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out," he said softly. "What are you doing in here?"

I pushed myself up onto my elbow, shaking my hair out of my face. "I missed mom. I needed to be near her today."

"Oh honey," he began, voice cracking with emotion. "I'm so sorry. Did you have a rough day?"

Sitting all the way up, I scooted closer to his side and laid my head on his shoulder. "Not rough bad, just different. I could have used some of mom's advice."

"I understand," he murmured. "Perhaps you could use some dad advice instead?"

"Thanks dad, but I don't think you'd get it."

"Try me," he instructed pulling my close, his hand resting on my shoulder.

"It's about a boy," I told him as he narrowed his eyes.

"Do I need to go beat some punk kid's ass?"

"Dad!" I rolled my eyes at him. "See, I told you; mom thing. Not a dad thing."

He smiled softly and squeezed my shoulder. "Okay, okay," he conceded. "But seriously, Bella, I'm here for you. I might not have the best advice, but I can definitely offer you dad advice whenever you need it."

"Thanks Dad."

"Love you Bella."

"Love you too."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

 **Present**

A low, brief buzz emanates from my phone for the second day in a row. It rattles against a box of paperclips as a second and third hum escape the partially open drawer I stowed the phone in this morning.

Reaching for the handle, ready to release the drawer, I stop myself from yanking it open. I don't need to look to know the sound was most likely a response from Jake regarding the hateful diatribe he found in his inbox this morning.

If I read his messages, if I let my eyes drink in his words, I'll crumble like a house of cards. He had, no doubt, found a way to craft a response so charming, one that would make me stupid with desire to see him, forgive him, let him make everything right in the world again.

Removing my hand, I turn back to my computer, staring down the spreadsheet waiting silently to be completed. Row after row of numbers stare back at me, neatly taking up their designated spaces in the world.

Trying my best to ignore him and the world beyond, I remind myself, again, that whatever he has to say doesn't matter; that his words are inconsequential. Everything he wanted to say or needed to say, he'd already said. Well, more accurately _didn't_ say. And you know what they say about actions and words. He wasn't worth my time anymore.

I roll my eyes toward the ceiling as the all too familiar feeling of being torn between hating him and loving him roils through my heart. I wanted nothing more than to hate him, hate the air he breathed and the space he occupied in my life. I wanted him to just go away forever.

Hell, who was I trying to kid? The desperate need to keep him in my life battled the more rational part of my brain, demanding to know what he said, what words did he possess that could change my mind?

Curiosity and the burning desire to remain impassive to his charms battle for control of my emotions; need blazing a path toward victory and securing the fight.

No! I told myself. We are done with this.

Shoving my chair back, I stalk out of my cubicle, marching toward the break room, angry at myself for not being strong enough to resist him.

"Where are you going?" Alice called out as I march past her office.

"I need a break," I announce. "Want to grab a cup of coffee?"

"Sure. Let me save this first."

I start down the hall, not bothering to wait for her. I need to be as far away from my phone as possible.

"What's wrong?" Alice asks, falling in to step beside me.

"Nothing," I bit out.

"You're wearing your Mr. Potato Head angry eyebrows. Something's wrong."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Spill it," she demands.

I glance around the break room, not wanting any of the office gossips to spread my personal drama around. "I screwed up," I admit, sinking wearily against the counter by the coffee maker. "Paul called last night and I was frustrated and annoyed with him because he always calls ten seconds after I walk in the door. I don't even get the chance to take my shoes off and he's calling. So after dinner, I sat down with my computer and pulled up Jake's message."

Alice hands me a cup of dark umber coffee, a burnt aroma wafting up as I dump sugar and creamer in, stirring slowly until the darkness fades into a warm mocha. Glancing up at Alice I said, "I reread his message a few more times. Then I clicked on his page. That was my first mistake."

"Okay," Alice replies slowly, her expression confused. "I don't understand how you messed up."

Ignoring her comment, I continue, "There wasn't anything else to do last night. All the shows on TV were reruns so I read some of his statuses, looked at his pictures. He's still amazingly gorgeous, Alice. I think I sat there staring at his profile picture for an hour. Then I came across one of me and him from high school."

"Seriously?"

"Yes," I nod. "When it came up, I was so mad at him for posting that. It was…" shocking, weird, slightly thrilling to know even after all these years he still thought about me, "Peculiar. I mean, why would he post something so personal? It's not like any of his friends now know who I am."

"Is it possible he uploaded it a while ago, you know, back before you two lost touch?" Alice suggested.

"No," I told her, "I checked. He added the photo six months ago." I picked at the edge of the cup, pulling little pieces of Styrofoam free and setting them down on the counter, little piles of white snow littered the counter. Tension settles into my neck and shoulders, tightening the muscles that joined together there. "I don't know what he wants," I sigh. "Why does he want to apologize now, after so much time has passed? Why is it suddenly so important?"

Alice rested her hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "I honestly don't know, Bella. I really don't. I think you need to ask Jake," she replies softly.

"I did," I admit. "That is what I did, my mistake. I messaged him back last night. After I saw the picture, I snapped. I was so angry at him and I went off. I sent the most seething vitriol I could muster, and trust me Alice; it wasn't kind at all. I simply couldn't help it. I'm so mad at him and I want to know why. And I want him to go away."

"What did he say?"

I sip the bitter coffee, screwing my face up in disgust. Dumping it in the trash, I empty the pot and pour grounds to make a fresh pot.

"He didn't respond last night," I tell her as I push the button to start the drip. "Right before I left my office he replied. I think. I'm not sure. I didn't check because I'm not sure what he is going to say. I'm not sure I even care."

"Honey, you care," Alice declares. "If you didn't, you wouldn't get this bent out of shape over it. You would've told him that while it was wonderful to hear from him, you hold no interest in seeing him again or hearing his apology. You wouldn't have gone off like a madwoman and chewed him out. The fact that you did tells me you still care, regardless of whether you want to or not. And if I'm being honest with you, I think you need to see him. I think you need the apology."

"Yesterday you told me to stay far, far away from him," I remind her.

"I did," she agrees. "I changed my mind, right now. But my opinion doesn't matter; not at the end of the day. Ultimately the decision is yours. You need to decide whether or not you can learn to live with what happened, knowing he is, in fact, sorry for hurting you. Or you can choose to keep hating him. Either way though, babe, you've got to decide."

Filling a new cup with fresh coffee, I inhale the warm fragrance, reflecting on what my closest friend said. She was right. I needed to decide.

Gathering my cup, I thank Alice and head back to my desk. Four years ago, Jake had been my whole world. When my world imploded, I told myself I hated him because hating him was a lot easier than loving him and knowing he'd made his decision; a decision that didn't include me. However, if I was honest with myself, there was a part of me that loved him, was in love with him, as much today as back then.

I didn't know how to handle the myriad of emotions coursing through me. Anger, betrayal, hurt, hate, love. Every time I thought about him, my thoughts immediately hurtle to the night everything changed.

Standing in front of the desk, I gather my courage. Time to face the music, I tell myself. Setting my cup down, I slowly open the drawer and cautiously pull my phone out. As I unlock it, I sink into my chair on trembling knees.

My fingertips leave moist trails of sweat across the screen, as I open the message. With my heart in my throat, fear strangling me, I read the screen.

 _Please meet me_ , was the entire first message.

 _I'll beg if I have to_ , the second read.

 _Please, Bella, give me five minutes. That's all I'm asking. Five minutes of your time and then I'll let you walk away and you'll never hear from me again if that's what you want._

I let out a breath I wasn't aware I was holding and bite my lip, my fingertips hovering over the keyboard as I try to make my decision.

Say yes.

Say no.

Say leave me the hell alone you devastatingly beautiful man.

Without thinking, I close my eyes and type my response.

 _Tomorrow at 1:30. I usually eat lunch at Leon's Deli. I'll meet you there._

I hit send before I can change my mind and shove my phone back into the drawer, slamming it shut with enough force my coffee spilled over the side of the cup. I was going to regret this in the worst way was my first thought.

What the hell did I do? Was the second.

I arrive at Leon's the following afternoon at my usual time; early enough to grab a table that offered a perfect view of the door.

As I wait for Jake to arrive anxiety gnaws at my stomach. I nervously played with the food on my plate, stacking and unstacking potato chips. The persistent odor of tuna fish lingered in the air, souring my already riotous stomach, the low hum of other diners buzzing in my ears, vibrating inside of my skull.

Glancing at the time, I nearly lost my lunch. Jake should be arriving soon, if he was anything like he was four years ago; always perfunctorily early. As the seconds tick by I found myself hoping he wouldn't show up. Another part of me hopes he will so I can finally feel something more than a deep, unrelenting anger towards him.

Five minutes early, Jake breezes through the entrance and stands in the doorway glancing around the crowded diner nervously. He was taller than I remembered; his umber hair was longer than in his profile picture and I could see his tattoo peeking out from the sleeve of his black v-neck. His onyx eyes make their way across the room; when he finally sees me, a compulsive smile tugs at the corner of his lips then drops as he looks at me, truly seeing the animosity lingering in my eyes. As I stare back at him, fear creeps into his eyes, the same terror that was causing my heart to slam against my chest painfully.

Cautiously he makes his way to me, slowly weaving through the tables blocking his way. As he approaches, I stand, nervously wiping my sweaty palms on the legs of my black trousers.

"Hey," he breathes when he finally reached me.

"Hi," I whisper, choking on my voice. As he stands before me, I can't help but notice how much he's changed since I saw him last. Jake was more man than boy now; all of his softness was gone now and in its place stood a complete alpha male. Back then, he was all arms and legs, skinny and tall. Now his arms bulged at his sleeves, his dark shirt clinging to his chest where the swell of his pectoral muscles screamed for my attention. I let my eyes roam over his body, getting lost in the perfection of what if. All the photos I'd looked through had not prepared me for this moment, the actual reality of what he had become.

Breaking the spell he had me under, he asked, "Should we sit or keep standing here awkwardly?"

Nervous laughter bursts from my mouth, my knees shaking. "I think sitting would be best," I stutter, sinking weakly to my seat. Gripping the edge of the table I will my body to calm down.

Sitting across from me, Jake picks up the salt shaker, rolling it in the palm of his hand. "How have you been?" he asks as he stares at me, studying me.

Self consciously, I raise my right hand to my face, hoping to God there wasn't something stuck in my teeth. "Um, okay, I suppose. You?"

Jake shrugs in response, trading the salt shaker for the pepper. I stare at him, my eyes going to those perfect lips, a thousand memories flashing through my mind. I take a deep breath, trying to clear my thoughts, and catch a hint of his cologne. A shudder races through me, leaving a wake of goose bumps blazing across my skin.

He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing my left hand. "Nice ring," he says flatly, grazing the diamond of my engagement ring. "How long now?"

"Two years," I breathe, pulling my hands back and dropping them in my lap. "His name is Paul. He's very sweet."

"I know. I saw some of your posts about him. Does he treat you well?"

I nod wordlessly, twisting my rings nervously. "What about you? Married yet?"

Jake laughs harshly. "God no."

 _Interesting._ "Why not?"

"Do you want the truth or the lie I tell everyone else?" he asks in a low voice.

I swallow hard, my mouth and throat dry, as his eyes lock on mine, daring me to ask for the truth. "Whatever you're comfortable telling me," I reply.

"The truth it is then. The only girl I ever wanted to marry is married to someone else and it's my own damn fault. I was young and stupid and I lost her. I regret it every day."

Knowing this was coming didn't stop my breath from catching in my throat, didn't stop the wave of shock washing over me. "Well that's just terrible," I whisper.

"I know," he murmurs.

"Why are you here Jake?"

He set the pepper shaker down, places his forearms on the edge of the table and stares at me once more, his head tilted to the side as if he is searching for the remnants of the girl he used to know. I want to tell him that she's gone, and that he had a hand in killing her. I bite my lip, battling to keep the words locked inside my head despite the fact that they need to be said.

Jake takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. He seems lost and at war, as if the words he wants to say won't come out right. Finally he says, "I've spent every day for the last four years trying to figure out how to fix what went wrong between us Bella."

A tidal wave of anger washes over me, soaking me in fury. "It took you four years Jake, four freaking years, to figure it out?" I snap.

"Yeah, it did."

"Well guess what? You're too late," I retort.

"Don't you think I know that?" he explodes, his voice ratcheting up. "Trust me Bella, when your face showed up on that site, I damn near died."

I roll my eyes, the edges of my vision turning red.

"Don't roll your eyes at me. I was so fucking happy. I saw you and I thought, finally, I can contact her and we can put the past behind us. We can get to know each other again and see if there are still sparks between us. I have missed you, Bella. So much. I don't think you'll ever know how much-"

"Bullshit," I called. "That's such a lie. If you missed me so much where the hell have you been for the last four years, Jake? I was there the day after all this crap happened and you never once, not once, came to see me, you never called, texted, nothing! I waited, Jake. I waited for you, and you just picked up and took off."

"You're right, I did."

"I know I'm right!" I hissed.

He shrugs as if to say he has no argument. He went on, saying, "When I found out you got married, it killed me. It's killing me right now to see you sitting here with me while you're wearing some other guys ring."

"It's your own damn fault," I replied thickly. "I waited for you, but when a day turned into a week, then a month and finally a year, what was I supposed to do? You clearly weren't coming back. And you know what? If you hadn't been such a cocky asshole none of this would be happening right now." I took a deep breath, fighting the surge of emotions swirling through me. Anger faded into sorrow. "We could have been happy together Jake. Hell, we _were_ happy together. When we were together. But no, some things just aren't good enough for you, you always wanted more, always chasing after what you wanted, who you wanted when there was someone right in front of you that wanted only you. God, you were all I ever wanted. From day one, Jake. You were all I ever wanted but I wasn't good enough for you and now here we are."

Jake sighs, his hands fisting through his brown hair, the fight dying in him. "It's too late for us, isn't it?"

"There is no "us,"" I shoot back. "There hasn't been an "us" in four years. You made damn sure of that. You made damn sure that whatever "us" there was, died that night." I sag back in my chair, deflating as the fight drains out of me. "You had so much time, Jake; so many chances to fix us, but you didn't. God how I wish you had."

Tears burn my eyes as a torrent of emotions break free. I blink, fighting them back, refusing to shed one more tear for this man who I'd cried too many tears over. No way in hell was he ever getting another one ever again.

"I'm sorry," he said, his shoulders slumping forward. "For everything. I am so very sorry."

"So am I. I'm sorry that I spent so much time trying to make you love me, sorry that I ever fell in love with you. You didn't just break my heart Jake. You obliterated it."

With that, I push my chair back and stand, the tears I fought to keep at bay threatening to spill in earnest now. "I have to go." I tell him as I grab my bag. "I need to get back to work. It was good to see you again."

Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I hurry out of the diner, my heels clicking thunderously across the white tiled floor, not once looking back at the man I left sitting at the table.

Safely locked in my car, the tears spilled freely down my cheeks, burning my eyes, my heart breaking all over again.

What was I thinking? I berated myself. I should have known better, should've known seeing him would hurt like hell.

I glance in the rear view mirror at my mascara streaked face and hurt gave way to anger. Furiously I swipe them away, smearing what was left of my mascara. Shoving the keys into the ignition I start the car, peeling out of the parking lot.

The time had come to leave him behind and get back to the real world, and there's no time for broken hearts there.

Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the parking garage across the street from my office building. Flipping the mirror down, I try to salvage what was left of my eye makeup. With a crumpled up tissue I found in the center console and a bottle of water, I methodically fix my face, erasing all signs of any emotional upheaval.

Looking slightly more normal, I exit the car. As I headed toward the elevator my phone chimes. Unthinking, I pulled it out expecting a message from Alice, finding one from Jake instead.

 _I'm sorry I upset you. I seem to do that a lot, don't I? Truth is Bella, I miss you. I miss your sense of humor and your sarcasm. I miss being able to make you laugh, but more than that, I miss the way you used to be able to make me laugh. I miss laughing._

 _I miss what we had. I'd be lying if I said I didn't, but like you said, there is no us. Not anymore and that's on me._

 _I…shit…I want to say so much to you, I just don't know if this is the best way to say it. I might never get another chance to tell you though, so I suppose I'll just come out with it and let the chips fall where they may._

 _I miss the relationship we had and I'm mad as hell your husband gets to have that with you. I'm pissed that he gets your smiles and your laughter, that he gets to be the one who calls you baby. But most of all I'm pissed at myself for letting you go._

 _You said you weren't good enough for me, but that isn't true. It's more like I wasn't good enough for you. We were so young when we met, and what I felt for you overwhelmed and scared me. I have never felt those kinds of emotions for anyone else that I felt with you. You made me feel loved and wanted, like there was no one else in the world for you and perhaps that's true, but not anymore._

 _I miss being loved by you. I miss loving you. You were all I wanted and that scared the shit out of me._

 _The depth of how much I wanted you…it was too much._

 _It was too much at sixteen; it was too much at twenty and still too much at twenty four. I only just realized that it actually wasn't too much. If anything, it wasn't enough. I'm not saying you didn't love me enough, I'm saying that I want more time. I want to make things right between us, in whatever capacity I can._

 _I want you in my life in whatever way I can have you. If that means I have to suffer through barbecues on Saturday afternoons while your husband makes burgers and kisses you shamelessly and I have to pretend to be happy for you then so be it. But I don't want another four years to go by without having you in my life._

 _Is there any way that can happen Bella?_

 _Probably not, god knows there's a lifetime of history between us, but I'm asking it anyway Bella. I'm asking you to let me back in one more time._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

 **12 Years ago**

The summer sun blistered on my skin, turning it methodically from pale white to light pink as Jake's decrepit pickup truck hurtled down the highway bound for the beach. The Who's _Baba O'Riley_ screaming out of the radio, me singing along at the top of my lungs. I'd long ago learned to love Jake's eclectic taste in music. One day it was The Who, the next it was The Verve.

Beside me, Jake laughed, his fingers reaching across the cracked leather seat seeking mine. I slid my hand into his, our fingers winding together; a mismatched blend of light and tan, yin and yang.

Sighing happily, I stared out the window as an ancient gold Parisienne cruised past us, Alice gripping the steering wheel, appearing smaller than she was. As the car whizzed past, a male voice shouted. I turned my head; a set of pasty butt cheeks filled the back driver's side window.

"Ew," I groaned, turning away.

Jake released my hand, reaching for the radio dial and turning it. Static screeched out of the speakers as he searched for a different song. Landing on a popular station he stopped, listened for a moment, then sent the knob rolling again.

Classic rock, Van Halen, I think, spilled out of the speakers. Satisfied with the song, he gripped the steering wheel, his long fingers tapping along to the kick drum.

I sighed happily and leaned back into the seat, closing my eyes. There were only two days left of school, one more year, and then we were free. Turning my head to my left, I opened my eyes, squinting against the sun and stared at the boy beside me.

I wondered if he knew how happy I was. Jake and I had our ups and downs over the last two years that much was for sure. The summer following our sophomore year he asked me out; I told him no, so he started dating a girl in my theater class. They broke up before the summer ended and in the fall he asked me out again. Once more, I said no. We were really good friends who were super attracted to each other, but I saw how he was with girls. He went through them like a cheerleading squad went through tampons; constantly with a new girl almost every month and I didn't want to be a name on his list. I wanted to be the only name on that file, the only one he would ever want.

That hadn't happened yet which drove me crazy. I wanted him; he wanted me, what was the problem? I had no idea but moments like these ones, where he'd reach for my hand when we were alone, drove me crazy. Jake was one person in public and someone else entirely in private.

Just like now, holding my hand in the privacy of his truck but the second we joined our friends he would go back to treating me with indifference.

It hurt like hell when he did that, but what could I do about it besides stop putting myself in those situations?

I sighed loving and hating the way he made my body feel on fire, drowning me in the blaze that was intent on devouring me, consuming me. A scorching inferno intent on destroying me.

"You okay?" Jake questioned.

I nodded wordlessly as I stared at his profile, tamping down the urge to scoot across the seat and lay my head on his shoulder. "Just tired of being in the car," I told him.

"We're almost there," he replied. "I can see the ocean from here."

I gazed out the window searching for the sapphire glint of the ocean. Catching a hint of salt air, I inhaled deeply, letting it fill my lungs.

Five minutes later we rolled down the main road. Spotting Alice's car, Jake signaled and pulled into the space beside it. I leaned down to grab my bag as Jake's truck shuttered off, clicked and hissed a few times before becoming silent.

Hopping out of the cab, I didn't bother waiting for him, and took off for the ocean. The sand was scalding beneath my feet as I scanned the shore for Alice and the rest of our friends.

Spotting them set up near the shoreline, I hightailed it down the beach, passing locals and tourists alike. Skidding to a stop, I collapsed breathlessly onto Alice's towel.

"Took you long enough," she gripped. "What did you two do, take a detour and finally work out some of that sexual tension that seems to follow you around?"

Elbowing her in the ribs, I frowned at her. "No," I hissed. "You know he drives like my grandpa. Either that or you drive like you're trying to qualify for the Indy 500."

Alice grinned cattily. "You know I want to be a race car driver when I grow up."

I rolled my eyes and turned toward my bag, pulling out my own towel, setting it up beside hers. Kicking off my sandals, I pulled my t-shirt off and lay down beside her. Covering my eyes, I said, "Can you believe we're going to be seniors next year?"

"It's insane, right?"

"It is," I agreed. Rolling to my side, I smiled at her. "We should make this the best summer of our lives. Then totally out-do it next year."

"Deal."

"Jesus Bella, why didn't you wait for me?" Jake groaned as he dropped an armload of items to the ground beside me.

"I thought you had it," I replied sweetly.

"You knew damn well I could have used help," he snipped.

"You didn't ask," I shrugged. "I'm not a mind reader." With that, I rolled over and laid my head down, my face turned toward him and closed my eyes.

Jake grumbled under his breath beside me as he knelt, sorting through his things and arranging them on the beach. "You're gonna pay for that," he said in my ear, his breath a warm whisper against my sun-soaked skin.

"In your dreams," I retorted with a smile.

His lips twitched, his eyes alighting with mischief. "In yours," he whispered.

I shivered under the scalding sun as I stared into his black eyes, my own darting between his lips and his eyes. Jake smiled and rolled onto his feet. "You'll see," he called jogging toward the water.

"Jesus Christ," Alice groaned. "It smells like sexual tension out here. Would you two please, just…I don't know, fuck or something, and get it over with."

"Shut up," I hissed.

"Come on Bella, he knows you want him. If he doesn't, he's a bigger moron that I gave him credit for. Now please, go swim or something, I can't handle the stench of desperation."

I flipped her off as I headed down to the water. Foamy waves rushed up the golden sand towards my feet, washing over my ankles. Wading in, warm water rose up my body until I was waist deep.

"Incoming!" a voice called.

I glanced around as a pile of wet sand splattered across my chest.

"Jake!" I shrieked. "You asshole!"

From toward the horizon he laughed; another pile of sand flew towards me.

"I'm gonna kick your ass!" I cried, diving into the water. When I came up, I saw him standing out on the sandbar, a handful of mud dripping from between his fingers. I slid down into the now chest deep water and pulled the cups of my bikini away from my skin, trying to wash away the sand clinging to my skin.

Checking around to make sure Jake was still on the sandbar, I brushed grains of rock and shell out of my bathing suit. Once I was no longer sandy, I dove again heading for Jake.

When I came up, a handful of mud whizzed over my head, plopping sickly into the water behind me. Swimming up to the sandbar, I set my feet down and reached out, pinching the soft skin of his stomach.

"Ow!" he cried, flinging my hand away and rubbing the pink mark slowly blooming on his belly. "What was that for?"

"For being a jerk," I growled, pinching him again, "and throwing sand at me. It's all stuck to my skin and inside my bathing suit."

"Aw, I'm sorry," he pouted, mimicking my voice.

"You should be," I snapped, crossing my arms across my chest as I glared at him.

"Come here; let me see if I can make it better."

"Unh uh," I said backing away. "I am not that stupid."

He dipped his hands into the water then held them up, showing me they were clean. "Seriously. Let me see if I can help. Come here."

Cautiously I went to him, watching to make sure he wasn't playing me. When I reached his side, his arms snaked around my waist, pulling me in closer to him.

My heart started galloping as the heat from his body seeped into mine. I fought the urge to close my eyes and lean into him; to wrap myself around him in the most R-rated way possible.

"Where's it bothering you?" he murmured, his eyes on my chest.

"Right here," I motioned the bottom band of my top.

Jake's fingers slid under the strap, stroking smoothly against my skin, moving from the right side, around my back, and to the left. "Better?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "Thanks."

"No worries."

His hands were still on my waist, sliding lower. Cupping my backside, he pinched me, hard.

"Ow!"

He grinned wolfishly down at me.

"Don't do that!" I cried, trying to wiggle away.

Jake slid his left hand down, tightening his grip and pinched me again.

"Stop," I cried slapping his chest.

Then the bastard pinched me again. "Do it again and I'm going to kiss you."

Jake chuckled low in his throat, an evil glint in his eyes. A sharp pain stung my skin. Reflexively I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, his unshaved skin harsh against my lips.

With my heart racing, I leaned back and glowered at him, daring him to try me. Jake pulled me closer, pinching me again. As I leaned toward his cheek, he turned his face, our lips connecting, igniting as a thousand synapses fired. Pulling me closer, his hands pinning me against him, my chest crushing against his, I gasped and he surged forward, his tongue lightly brushing mine. Electricity flowed through my body; all conscious thoughts ceased, the roar of the waves crashing on the shore faded away, the cawing of the seagulls that permeated the air diminished. All I could hear was his sharp intake of breath and the banging of my blood.

My arms slid around his neck, my fingers seeking the purchase of his hair, winding them into the thick chestnut mass, tugging slightly.

I was burning, my body on fire, alive with something I'd never felt before. Jake moaned softly, angling his head, deepening our kiss, lifting me off the ocean floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist, molding myself against his body.

"Oh yeah!"

"Get some!"

"About damn time!"

The sounds of the world crashed through my consciousness, shocking me back to the moment. I unclasped my legs and released the hold I'd had on Jake's hair, crashing into the ocean, the cooler water clearing my senses.

Oh my god, what did I do?

When I surfaced, Jake was staring down at me, red faced. "Oh my god," I moaned backing away from him. Pushing off the sandbar I made a beeline for the shore, swimming furiously as if I were being chased by the shark from Jaws.

"Go ahead girl, 'bout time you did something with all that!" Alice shrieked as I passed her.

"Shut up Alice!"

Once on the shore, I stumbled to my towel and collapsed clutching my chest. Feeling my heart knocking into my rib cage, I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD!

Those three simple words knocked around the inside of my head like a kaleidoscope of butterflies desperately seeking escape after capture. A grin tugged my lips, spreading across my face.

Jake finally kissed me. Or I kissed him.

Semantics. He certainly wasn't screaming no, I thought, my smile going wider.

Pushing myself up, I glanced out to the horizon. Jake remained on the sand bar, his back to me, droplets of water on his skin shimmering in the early afternoon light.

Resting my elbows on my knees, I set my chin in my hands and stared at him as he bobbed in the current. Slowly, he turned his eyes meeting mine. I started to smile when I noticed the anxiety lingering just below the dark surface of his gaze. Biting my lip, I swallowed hard, anxiety clawing at the base of my throat.

With a frown, he made his way through the water towards me. I pulled my knees up, watching his progress, sweat forming on my brow. When he finally sat down beside me, he drew his knees up and nudged me with his shoulder.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hi."

"So that was interesting," he murmured, digging his fingers into the sand.

"Sure was," I returned, staring at the sun.

"What did it mean?" he asked, his eyes on his fingers buried up to his knuckles in the ground beside him.

Shrugging slightly, I turned my head toward him, blinking away the black spots burned into my vision by the sun. "I'm not sure what it meant to you, Jake. Was that just you marking up your bedpost? Finally getting something from the one girl who constantly tells you no, or was it something more than that?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked indignantly, turning to meet my gaze.

"Oh come on," I muttered, "you have consistently asked me out and I've shot you down every single time."

"Except this time," he retorted, throwing his hands into the air, sand flying everywhere. It glittered in the afternoon light, glimmering for a brief moment before settling down.

"You didn't ask this time. You just took."

"I didn't hear you telling me to stop."

"No," I admitted. "You didn't."

"Why not?" he questioned.

How to answer this question? I wondered. Truthfully, my mind replied. Taking a deep breath, I said, "Because."

"Because?" he sputtered. "Because why?"

"Because for two years, I've waited for you to grow up, to get it, to finally understand how I feel about you. I wanted to be your first choice, not your backup plan, not the girl you came running to when you were out of options or bored. You never chose me first."

Jake leaned forward, crossing his arms over his knees and squinted at me. "Really?" he asked, dubiously.

"Yes!" I shouted. "Come on, Jake. Two weeks after you transferred to school, you were dating Sarah What's-her-face. You guys broke up like three days later, and you were asking me out. After I told you no, you went after Amanda Hocking. When you guys broke up, you asked me again. This sick cycle keeps going on and on. When does it end? When do you ask me out, get rejected and not go after some other skank? When do you wait for me to be okay with dating you?"

"Bella, I never knew you thought that," he murmured. He reached for me, fingertips brushing my arm before I snatched my arm away. He dropped his hand to his side and exhaled, his breath whistling through his parted lips.

"Yeah, well, I do," I snapped. "You say you want to be with me, but your actions say something completely different."

"Is that what my actions today said?"

I sighed, shaking my head no. I hugged my knees, drawing them close to my chest. "I don't know Jake. You are so hard to read. And honestly, I'm tired of trying."

"Bella," he reached for my arm, tugging it off my knees. He held my hand in his, sliding his fingers between mine. I glanced away, pulling my hand away. "Hey, look at me."

I stared at a cloud floating leisurely across the sky, not wanting to because if I did, I would most likely cry. Everything he did, he seemed to do to either hurt me or remind me that I wasn't what he wanted.

"Bella, look at me," he commanded.

Slowly I turned my head, gazing at him. "What?"

He grabbed a strand of hair and tucked it behind my ear, his fingers tracing my jaw line. "I've only wanted you since the day I met you. All you do is push me away; you've done it for as long as I've known you."

"What! No, I haven't."

"Yeah, Bella, you have," he shot back.

"Whatever," I muttered. "You're so full of shit your eyes should be…oh, well, never mind."

Jake rolled his eyes, his fingers tracing a path between my index finger and thumb. "See this," he said, his eyes on our entwined fingers, "we're good together Bella. It's so easy between us-"

"When it's just us," I interjected.

"Because you keep me at an arms distance when there are other people around. When you realized people were watching us out there, you bolted."

I had no response because he was right. I pushed him away when we were with our friends. How did I not realize I did that? "I'm sorry," I told him.

"It's okay."

"So…"

"So?" he parroted.

"What now? What is going on with us?"

He shrugged his expression mirroring the turmoil washing over me. Fear that I was about to lose my best friend over some stupid kiss that I would gladly take back if I meant I got to keep him in my life in whatever capacity I could have him. But the fear that all we would ever be outweighed my desire to have more of him. I wanted all or nothing.

"Why don't we just take it a day at a time? We're friends who hold hands, kiss when the mood strikes, and if you promise to be nice to me, I'll take you out, maybe see a movie, grab something to eat and we'll see how it goes?"

I sagged against him in relief, laying my head on his arm, joy flooding me. "I can do that."

"Ew, are you two dating now?" Alice called as she made her way toward us.

"Shut up Alice," Jake and I said in unison.

"Gross," she muttered reaching into the cooler for a can of soda. "I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this and now look at you two, all disgusting and touchy feely." She popped the top of her can, taking a long swallow. "Don't steal my best friend," she pointed at Jake. "Or I'll kick your ass. Jakee thing goes if you hurt her."

Jake held his hands up defensively. "Easy trigger."

"I mean it," she scolded. "Bella has been my best friend since kindergarten. Don't think you can come in here with your pretty face and smooth words and steal her away from me. I will cut you if you do."

"Jesus," he said to me. "I didn't realize how crazy she was."

Elbowing him in the ribs, I turned to Alice. "No one is stealing me from anyone."

"Promise?"

I grabbed her extended pinky finger and wrapped mine around hers. "Promise."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

 **Present**

I sit in the driveway staring up at the dark house wishing like hell I had someplace else to go, something else to do. I didn't want to spend another night sitting in the dark house alone staring at the television until it was time to go to bed.

Then I'd get up tomorrow and do it all over again; just as I had for the last seven days. There's been radio silence from Jake since his last message after I walked out on him. I wasn't sure if the lack of communication was a good thing or a bad thing.

Good thing if he'd given up on the idea of me ever forgiving him and reconciling whatever shreds of our friendship was left; bad thing if he was fortifying his defenses and bolstering his fight.

If I knew Jake; which I did, far too well; chances were he would choose option b which meant I'd be hearing from him sooner rather than never.

Sighing, I shut off the car. Grabbing my bag, I climb out and head up the dark walk. A soft chiming from my phone stops me. Digging it out, I accept the call with a not so chipper, "Hello."

"Hey, sweetheart," Paul's warm voice filled my ear. "How are you?"

Holding the phone between my shoulder and my ear, I unlock the door and say, "I'm okay. How are you?"

"I'm doing alright. Are you feeling better?"

In the foyer, I kick my shoes off and set my bag down. Rubbing my temple, I fight back tears. "A little. I think the worst has passed."

Paul hmmed, and said, "You need to go see the doctor. You've been under the weather for almost a week. I'm worried about you baby."

Sickness twists my guts, bile rising in my throat as the lies I've told him swirl in my mouth. Upon my return to the office last week after seeing Jake, I'd sought out the office manager and asked to leave for the day, telling her that I must've eaten something at lunch that made me ill.

I left for home and cried myself to sleep. When I talked to Paul the following day, he sensed something was amiss. Questioning me about it, I told him the first lie I could think of. I was ill.

I spent the weekend in bed, called out Monday and Tuesday. I'd finally gone back to work today.

"I'm okay, Paul," I tell him. "It's just a cold."

"Alright," he replied skeptically. "I should come home for a few days."

"No, you don't have to. I'm fine, I swear," I affirm, sinking down onto the couch, clutching a pillow to my chest.

"I'm due to come home soon anyway. I put in for some time off next week; I can come home sooner. It's not a big deal."

I wanted him home. I missed him. I needed him. "Okay," I finally concede. "Come home."

"Alright. As soon as I make this delivery, I'll be there."

"I can't wait to see you. I've missed you a lot. It feels like forever since you've been home and I just…I miss you." My voice cracks and I realize I did miss him.

"Bella," Paul drawls. "Honey, what's wrong?"

I swipe at tears slowly sliding down my face. "I hate this," I whisper, squeezing a throw pillow tightly.

Silence answers me as the line buzzes quietly. Paul swallowed hard, clearing his throat. I promised him that if his job, the distance, and absence, ever became too much I would tell him. I made a vow to myself that I would never do that to him. I would never take away the one thing he loved as much, if not more, than me.

"What does that mean?" he murmurs.

Biting my lip, I shrug even though he couldn't see. "I'm not sure. I think I'm just tired. I'm not thinking clearly. I need sleep. This will all be better in the morning."

"I'm coming home. I'll get one of the other guys to handle the delivery. I'll be home in two days tops. I need to see you, need to make sure my baby is okay. Will you be alright?"

Drying my face, I nod and say, "Yes. My head is just fuzzy. Once I get some sleep I'll be okay. I'm sorry."

"It's okay Bella. You're my wife, and if you need me, then I'm there. All you have to do is ask."

"I know Paul. I'm sorry."

"Stop," he said firmly. "The distance can be too much sometimes. I know this life is hard on you. Don't apologize for telling me what you need. I can't give it to you if you don't tell me. It's got to be getting late there. I'm going to tell you I love you, and sweet dreams. Now get yourself to bed. We'll talk more when I get home."

"Alright. I love you. See you soon."

"Love you too Bella," Paul replied before disconnecting.

I drop my phone onto the cushion beside me and stretch out, pulling a blanket over myself. Closing my eyes, I see Jake's face. I was so conflicted about my feelings towards him. Part of me wanted to punch him in the face when I saw him next, and part of me wanted to get over it already. Finally, put it all behind me and let it go. Never think of that night again.

The hardest part was trying to forgive him. When someone hurts you that deeply how do you just stop being hurt by it? I wonder.

I tried moving on. I was still trying it. Paul was my first relationship after Jake; my only relationship since Jake. When Paul and I met, I was still broken, both physically and emotionally. It was three in the afternoon on a Tuesday in February. The weather was still cold, the snow that had fallen for the better part of a week slowly turned into rain making the streets slushy and the skies decidedly overcast. I ditched work to go see a movie, needing a break from the reality that was my life then.

The theater was empty when I walked in. Climbing to the center row in the middle of the theater; I sat down, setting my cup on one seat, a bag of popcorn on the other. Sitting back, I rested my feet on the top of the seat in front of me and waited for the movie to begin.

As the theater lights dimmed, I grabbed my bag of popcorn, popping a handful in my mouth as the previews started. Lost in the promise of action and bloodshed showing before me, I didn't notice him until he cleared his throat.

I jumped, glancing up at him. "Is this seat taken?" he pointed at the seat my popcorn inhabited until a few minutes ago.

I glanced around the empty theater, then back up at him. "Um no, but you do realize we are the only people here and there are like, 100 other seats right?"

He smiled, unwrapped his scarf setting it down on the next chair over. Sitting down beside me, he shot me a smile and nodded. "I know."

"Uh, okay."

Turning back toward the screen, I snuck a peek at him out of the corner of my eye. He was facing forward, pouring skittles into his mouth and chewing quietly. His medium length hair, dark in the dim theater, was pulled back into a messy bun. A well-kept beard shadowed his face, his lips peeking out from under a trimmed mustache.

"I'm Paul by the way," he said leaning toward me, his breath fruity.

"Bella," I replied.

When he leaned away, a wave of lemon, amber and cedar wood hovered in the space between us. I inhaled the slightly sweet, crisp, cleanness of it and exhaled slowly hoping that this man wouldn't kill me and stuff my body under the theater seat.

As the next trailer played, Paul leaned toward me again. "This one looks good," he mused, watching Hugh Jackman running around on screen screaming for his missing daughter.

I made a noncommittal noise, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him.

"This one then?"

I glanced at the screen, watching as an awkward red-headed guy time traveled his way through his life, perfecting it with each pass. I shook my head no, smiling briefly.

"You're a tough one to figure out."

"Not exactly," I murmured. "This one looks good." I motioned toward the screen, where an attractive guy was hired to spy on a rival company.

"Well it's a date then," he told me.

"That movie doesn't come out for another six months," I told him. "What if I meet the love of my life, my soul mate, between now and then?" I took a sip of my diet soda, and added, "What if you do?"

"Well then I'll have to take you out way sooner than that," he replied smoothly.

"Oh look at you," I countered. "How do you know I'm single?"

"Seriously?" he laughed. "You're sitting in a theater alone, on a Tuesday afternoon. If you aren't single, your boyfriend is terrible and should be dumped immediately."

I sat back and stared at him, playing with the tip of my straw. This guy was something else. He sat down beside me and acted like we'd been friends forever. I didn't know it at the time, but I needed this. I needed some kind of normalcy. For the first time in six months, I didn't have the desire to slice open my wrists and end my pitiful life.

"Okay," I laughed. "I'll give you that. I am not currently in a relationship. I actually just got out of a pretty awful one, as a matter of fact. To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm even ready to start something new yet."

"I can respect that," he told me, focusing on the movie screen as the opening scene played.

I sat back and watched. Together, we sat there silently throughout the entire movie. For the first time in a while, I felt comfortable, relaxed. No one was asking me if I was okay, if I needed anything – a pillow or a drink, a pill for the pain. It was just me and some random guy watching some random movie. The sensation that settled over me was liberating; as if someone had thrown open the windows on my life, letting the cool spring breeze air out my cooped up soul; the dust and heaviness of the winter being banished and the light starting to seep back in.

When the movie ended and the lights brightened, Paul grabbed his scarf, winding it around his neck. "Well Bella, it was very pleasant seeing this movie with you. Maybe we should not plan to do it again. We'll go our separate ways and let fate handle the rest."

With a nod he turned and exited the theater as I stood there, mouth agape, watching him go. It was another month before I saw him again.

I went back to the theater on the same Tuesday every month in the hopes of seeing him again. Every time he wasn't there, I grew more and more disappointed. I found myself thinking about our random meeting often. He would pop into my head at the strangest times; driving to work, or while showering.

On a Tuesday four months after our original meeting, I walked into the theater, took my seat in the middle of the auditorium and waited. As the lights dimmed, a familiar figure made his way towards me.

"Excuse me," he said.

I glanced up, trying to hide the smile that overtook my face as Paul looked down at me. "Yes?"

"Is this seat taken?"

"Well that depends," I told him.

"On what?"

"Whether or not you're going to disappear after the movies over," I informed him.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," he smirked, sitting down beside me, enveloping me in a cloud of citrus and sandalwood, clutching the unmistakable red box of skittles in his left hand.

He didn't disappear this time. He offered to take me out for dinner, lightly holding my hand as we made our way to a small diner across the street.

After that, we were inseparable. He explained about his job over dinner, asked me about what I did for a living. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with Paul and by the time the movie he offered to take me see came out in august we were engaged. Four months later we were married.

I never told Paul about what happened between Jake and me. He knew something tragic happened, he asked once. I shut him down, telling him that I never wanted to talk about it, but I was okay. He made me promise that if I ever did need to talk about it, I would talk to him or I would see a professional.

I gave him my word, but never took him up on it. Now two years later here we were; my past coming back to haunt me and him clueless about the proverbial elephant in the room.

Two days. I had to make it through the next two days. Paul would be home and Jake would be vanquished to the dark recesses of my mind where he belonged.

No matter how much I'll miss him.

I startled at the thought. Would I miss Jake?

Yes.

No, I told myself. There is no place for him in my life anymore. I don't want there to be a place for him.

Oh come on, my self-conscious chided. You are so bored. You hate this life Paul has you shackled to. You're lonely, you're bored. Jake is here. Paul never is.

I rolled my eyes at myself then realized I was talking to myself. Shaking my head, I check the time and grab my laptop. Opening the browser, I log onto my account and check in on all my internet friends.

Boring, boring, of course, she's pregnant again, boring, boring.

Dragging the mouse to the search bar, I type in Jake's name, waiting as his page loaded. Slowly the content of his page came in, blotchy and out of order. I waited, watching as the page filled in. His most recent status caught my attention.

 _I tried to apologize. She ran away from me. Yes, RAN away. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't know why I thought this time would be any different. She's always running away from me and I'm always chasing her. I think I'll spend the rest of my life chasing her. Chasing and never catching her. God, I'm such a moron._

I stare sadly at the screen, working my lower lip between my teeth. Gnawing it, I scroll further down.

From the day I met him at the deli: _Trying to do the right thing for once in my sorry ass life. Wish me luck._

Didn't go so well, now, did it? I scowl.

 _I'm really starting to think this is a bad idea. I don't know how I can face her after all this time. I screwed up so badly…I'll be lucky if she doesn't punch me in the dick_.

Yeah, you're lucky I didn't punch you in the dick you assface, I think.

 _Back in my hometown. Haven't been back in four years. Jesus, it feels more like a lifetime. So much has changed, yet so many things have stayed the same._

Shaking my head, I read through the comments. A bunch of guys we knew from high school commenting that they wanted to grab beers and catch up on that one. On the dick punch status, some blonde bimbo advised Jake to just be himself, not try to shift blame and everything would be okay.

I snort out loud at that. Barbie obviously had no idea that everything would never be okay. She commented on his poor -poor pitiful me, she ran away status. _Well, then she's just not worth your time Jake. Obviously, you tried to do the right thing and if she didn't want to hear it, well, you know. It is what it is._

He'd replied back with, _Thanks, Janelle. I know. I tried and she didn't want to hear it. Story of my life. Thanks for talking with me earlier. I really appreciate it._

I roll my eyes. Sorry, my ass. Poor Jake. Bella doesn't want to hear your bullshit, so I'm going to go do the same damn thing I always do. Run to some other girl. Asshole.

Scrolling back to the top of his page, I contemplate sending him a response to his last message to me, but I refrained.

His most recent update caught my attention.

A list of things I wish I'd said: _I'm sorry. I won't take the job. I won't leave. Please stay. I love you. I want you. I want only you. I want all of you. I'm sorry. Don't go. Let's talk about it. I wish I'd showed up, I wish I'd stayed. I wish I'd called. I wish I never let you walk away. I wish I didn't push you out the door. I wish you'd stayed. I wish I'd stayed. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Please call me back. Please talk to me. Please let me make this right. I'm sorry. I love you. I miss you. I'm sorry. I'm not okay. You're not either. I'm sorry. This is my fault. All of it. I'm sorry._

 _I'm sorry._

 _I am so fucking sorry._

A teardrop fell on the keyboard. Quickly I flick it away, then wipe my face on the sleeves of my sweater. Closing the browser, I stare at the picture on my desktop, the various shades of purple melting together into a blob of color and shapes.

I have to stop doing this to myself, I cautioned. No more trolling his page, reading his words.

I was done. God, I was so done.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

 **Present**

That night I dreamt of being chased through the woods. Two shadowed figures were chasing me through the moonlight fog. Stumbling on the uneven terrain beneath my feet, I fall, crashing to the ground in a heap of messy hair and billowing nightgown. Fear terrorizes me as I fight to regain my footing, my hands clawing at the cool, moist dirt. My knee throbs as a tree root grinds into the hard bone. Trying desperately to push myself up, callused hands skim across my belly, pulling me backwards, towards the hooded figures.

I jerk awake, shrieking as I fall out of bed, "Please don't hurt me. I don't want to die."

"Bella," Paul soothing voice whispers softly through the darkness. "It's only me, honey. You're okay."

I scramble away from the bed, still caught in the grip of the nightmare, fright tearing at my heart. The springs of the bed creak, echoing across the darkness; feet shuffle over the hardwood floor. Buttery light explodes in a flash, filling the room with a warm glow that blinds me. Blinking rapidly as my eyes adjust to the intensity, I focus on Paul sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand extended towards me.

Instant calm washes over me, steadying my hammering heart. "Oh, Paul!" I cry, reaching for him. "You scared the hell out of me."

Paul grabs my hand, pulling me up into his chest. "I'm sorry Love. I truly didn't mean to wake you."

I wrap my arms around him inhaling the diesel fuel and salty air that lingers on his shirt. Burying my face in his chest, I draw the familiarity into my lungs; let it rush to my head. Paul's arms tighten around me, crushing me against his chest as he drops a kiss on the top of my head.

"My god, I've missed you," he mumbles into my hair.

"I've missed you too," I yawn into his chest. "What time is it?"

"A little after three in the morning. I drove straight all night so I could get back to you." He leans back, looking up at me, smoothing my hair back, tucking the errant strands behind my ears. "Let's get you back to bed."

Paul scoots over, his hands never leaving mine, and pulls me down next to him, tucking me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me, his fingers tracing circles on the small of my back.

I close my eyes, clutching his t-shirt in my fist. Beneath my ear, his heart beat steadily, lulling me back to sleep. Throwing my leg over his, I pull him closer, enjoying the way the bed feels too small with him in it.

This is what I miss the most; I think right before sleep claims me as its prisoner. I miss being touched by another person.

Crisp autumn sunshine woke me the next morning. I roll over, eyes still closed, fingers searching the cool sheets for Paul's warmth. Blinking against the brightness, I search the empty side of the bed. Frowning, I push myself up and look around.

"Paul?" I call softly.

The silent house answers me, the ticking of the refrigerator the only noise I hear. Climbing out of bed, I push my auburn curls out of my face and search for Paul's bag; the one that normally sits half in the doorway, half in the room, but the bag's not there.

That was a helluva dream, I think as I pad, barefoot, to the bathroom. I must miss Paul more than I thought. Snorting at the understatement of the century, I turn the faucet on, waiting for the ancient water heater to wake up and do its job. Stripping off my pajamas, I catch a hint of diesel fuel and shiver in the steam.

Get it together, Bella, I caution myself.

Climbing into the blistering spray, I adjust the temperature and dip my head beneath the jets. As the water pours over my face, I make a list of errands I'll need to take care of before Paul arrives home.

Grocery shopping was the first priority. I survived entirely on Nutri-Grain bars and pot stickers while he was away; a fact Paul would surely not appreciate.

I roll my eyes at the thought of his stern expression and ensuing lecture that would most definitely transpire if he were to find out.

I found it funny and not funny in the ha-ha sense but funny in the ironic sense. He was completely at ease with leaving me home, alone, for months on end – the longest he'd been gone was almost three months – but not okay with my dietary choices.

I was very well aware that I chose this life. I chose him, knowing full well what he did for a living and what that would entail for me. However, there were times when I wanted to beg him to give it all up, come home and have an actual life. One that includes me; that involves seeing me for more than a few days every couple of months. A life that meant going to bed with our bodies intertwined, sheets tangling as we fought for control of the blankets on a cold winter night, a life that meant more for dinner than just a couple of frozen dumplings and endless hours ridiculous, albeit interesting TV shows.

I was starting to feel the ticking of a clock deep down in my soul. I wanted to start a family, have two or three little Paul look-a-likes running around, driving me crazy.

He was content with this life we were half living and I wasn't.

That's where ninety percent of my problems came from. The other five percent had to do with my inability to articulate my feelings.

Quickly rinsing my body as the hot water faded to lukewarm, I shut the faucet off and step out, reaching for a towel, wrapping it around me. Treading carefully across the cold tile floor, I enter the bedroom, my thoughts trailing back to grocery shopping.

Walking toward the bed, I stumble as my eyes land on a metal tray laden with food and flowers. "Morning sleeping beauty," Paul draws.

I jump, clutching the towel tight against my body. "Jesus Christ!"

"Nope, just me."

I turn toward the sound of his voice. Leaning against the door jam, he's got his hands shoved deep in his pockets, a sexy smile on his unshaven face, tendrils of dark hair escaping the messy knot tied at the top of his head.

I cross my arms across my chest and scowl at him. "I thought I dreamed you coming home in the middle of the night and scaring me half to death."

Chuckling softly, he pushes off the wall sauntering towards me, reaching for my hands. "I'm sorry Bella."

Swatting him away, I glare at him. "No, you're not. You scare me on purpose, you mean ass man. Now leave me be so I can get dressed. I have things to do today."

He pouts, dropping his chin, looking down at me from under his thick dark lashes. "Me? The mean one? I don't think so sweetheart. You're the one standing here in nothing but a towel, knowing damn well I haven't seen you in nearly two months, telling me to get lost? I'm pretty sure that makes you the mean ass."

Lust washes over me as I reach for the edges of the towel. "Oh, this old thing?" I ask coyly, gripping the folds, peeling it slowly away from my body, exposing the barest hint of skin. "Should I take it off and then tell you to get lost?"

"Bella," he growls in warning, reaching for me again.

I stumbled back laughing; ready to play until I notice his expression. His dark eyes, stormy as the sky on a summer evening darken, his stance changing from playful to predator in the blink of an eye.

I knew then I was in trouble.

I take a few steps back, moving away from him. He was blocking the only way out of the room; my only choice was to make him chase me. My knees hit the edge of an armchair behind me and I fall into the chair with a bounce, my grip on my towel loosening. I watch him creep towards me, his steps slow and methodically, as if he has nowhere else on earth to be anytime soon. As his hands go to his belt, he leisurely drags the leather free, slowly sliding it out of his belt loops. My body tingles as he makes his intentions known, freeing the buckle of his belt and unbuttoning his jeans.

My heart misses a beat when he finally reaches me. Pulling me up out of the chair, he smoothes my sopping hair out of my face. "I've missed you terribly," he breathes, his lips hovering above mine. He pulls my towel away, letting it fall to the floor.

The inexplicable need to have him overwhelms me. With an involuntary shiver, I grab the hem of his t-shirt, my fingers trembling with the need to feel his skin against mine. Pulling it up, Paul grabs the back of his shirt and drags it over his head, dropping it to the floor beside my discarded towel.

Crushing myself against his chest, his hands slide up my waist, skimming my neck before sliding his fingers into my hair, tugging my head back. His eyes meet mine, locking on me.

"I've missed this."

I swallow the lump in my throat, my fingers digging into his waist, crushing our bodies together. Paul's head dips, his nose skimming across my collar bone, his lips whisper-soft against my skin, his teeth nipping a trail across my body.

My head drifted back, allowing him access to all the areas that made my knees weak and my head cloudy.

This man was most certainly going to be my undoing. The overwhelming need I felt for him sometimes threatened to swallow me whole. It was as if I couldn't breathe when he wasn't near; like I spent months holding my breath while waiting for him to return. He's the one person I need in my life. Like a drug habit I couldn't kick. I need the way he loves me, his undying devotion. I need it so I know that I'm not unlovable or undesirable. I need him to make me feel alive and powerful. I need to be loved that way.

Paul's mouth makes its way back to mine; I push up on my toes, leaning toward him as our lips brush, softer than a whisper, his hands cupping my cheeks as he stares at me in wonderment.

I love that look; it reminds me of a kid seeing snow for the first time. He looks at me like that child would gaze at a flake that landed in the palm of their hand; eyes riddled with awe; like he couldn't believe I chose him, that I wanted him.

Sometimes the depth of emotion I saw in his eyes overwhelmed me. I wonder if he sees it in my eyes when I look at him. I often wonder if he loves me more than I love him. And sometimes I worry that one day he'll wake up and realize that he does, in fact, love me more and it's not enough, that he wants more than a wife who regularly feels like she's only half in love with him. And true to the cliché, it wasn't him; this was all me.

"Hey," Paul's voice breaks into my reverie. "Where'd you go just now?" His hands slide under my chin, cupping my face as he looks at me with worried eyes. "Was I doing something wrong?"

"No!" I protest. "I was…" my voice trails off as I search for the right words. Taking a deep breath, I tell him, "I was daydreaming. I'm sorry."

He stares at me, his crystal blue eyes penetrating. "What were you thinking about?"

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I rest my forehead against his bare chest. "Nothing important," I whisper.

"It must've been something," he insists. "I'm doing my damnedest to seduce you and you check out and go to la la land."

"I was thinking about how much you love," I admit. "And how you love me, that's all."

"I do love you, Bella, more than you will ever know," he says, wrapping his arms around me, holding me against his chest.

"I know you do, Paul." I lean back and look up at him. "Truly, I do."

"I hope so. I know I'm shit at showing you sometimes, I know I'm never here and I'd give anything to change that if I could. I just can't right now."

I remain silent, listening to his heartbeat as he runs his hands up and down my back. There is nothing to say. He could change jobs if he wanted to, he could switch to something local, be home every night, but he won't and I won't ask him to. I should, but I can't.

Between us is a chasm, a split in our relationship that I can feel widening as his words bounce around inside my head and just like that, I'm frustrated with him, with his selfishness. Pushing away from him, I turn toward the closet searching for something to wear.

"Shit," Paul snaps behind me.

I spin around startled and search his face. "What's wrong?"

"Your breakfast is cold," he mutters.

Grabbing my robe, I slid it on and tie the sash around my waist. "It's okay, I can go reheat it."

"No," he says, holding up a hand to stop me. "I'll do it. Sit down, I'll be right back."

Nodding wordlessly, I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed. The frayed edges of our marriage tear a little bit more as I sit cross-legged in the middle of the bed.

Paul returns with the tray a few minutes later. Setting it down on my lap he says, "Breakfast is re-served."

I pick up the fork and take a bite of eggs. "Thank you."

"Always."

"Where'd you find eggs?" I ask between bites.

"That's a really good question," he says gruffly as he sits down on the edge of the bed. "What the hell are you eating when I'm not home?"

Sheepishly I set the fork down and take a sip of coffee he'd brought me. "I eat," I protest, hiding behind the coffee cup.

"Bella, there wasn't anything in the fridge except for a bottle of expired orange juice and a moldy bagel."

"I was planning on going grocery shopping today," I tell him. "You weren't supposed to be him until this afternoon."

"You need to eat," he admonished, his tone firm, unrelenting. His eyes conveying concern as he looked down at me.

"I do!" I gripe. To further drive the point home, I polish off the scrambled eggs. "See."

Paul rolls his eyes, lying back on the bed, tucking his arms beneath his head. "I'm taking you out for dinner tonight," he says to the ceiling.

"What? No, we don't have to go out," I protest.

He turns his head towards me, fixing me with a look that dares me to argue with him. "I want to. You're going to call Alice and the two of you are going shopping so you can buy yourself something nice. Then, when you come home, I'm taking you out. Dinner, dancing, whatever you want to do. You name it and we'll do it, okay?"

Swallowing hard as his tone brooked no argument, I nod. "Alright," I murmur.

"I love you, Bella." Paul rolls, propping himself up on his forearm. "I know I don't get to do things like this often and I know I should when I'm home. I'm sorry. I want to do this for you. I think you need a reminder of how much I care about you. So just…I don't know; let me do this for you, okay?"

Picking up the trays and moving it to the opposite side of the bed, I scoot down and lay next to him, my fingers tracing the shadows on his skin. "I know you love me," I tell him. "Sometimes, though, I worry that you love me more than I love you."

He places his hand over mine, stilling my motion. "Stop. Our marriage isn't a pissing contest. Yes, we love each other differently, but you love me Bella, and that's all that matters to me." His fingertips brush my wedding band, circling the stones encased within the silver. "You chose me," he says thoughtfully. "You picked me when you could have any guy you want. You could've said no, you could have told me to get lost. Hell, you could've left the theater that day and never looked back. You didn't. You picked me Bella, so if either of us loves the other more, it's you. You have to love me more to pick an idiot like me to spend the rest of your life with."

I smile at him, dropping a brief kiss on his lips. I couldn't help it, though, that at that moment my thoughts traveled to Jake.

And who picked who, exactly.

A/N - -

I know some of yall have said you hate this version of Bella..truth be told...I do too. She's wishy washy and frankly, I want to punch her in the face. At the time I started this, I just celebrated my 10th anniversary with my husband (who is gone a lot) and before he left to go back to work, we had this...huge argument... and it literally felt like my marriage was over. I was so confused and lost at the time and I had no idea how to figure out how to move forward with my life. I spent days going back and forth in my head...stay or go...fight or give up. If you've been around for a while you might remember, it'll be seven years ago next month, one of my best friends passed away. He was my high school sweetheart, the first boy I ever "loved." I sat around thinking about him and my husband and just wishing that he was still around, wishing I could call him and talk to him even though I knew that if he was still alive, I wouldn't be able to talk to him about this, because deep down some part of me still "loves" him, and probably always will. This story was kind of born from these two things...I want to tell you she grows a back bone, that she figures her shit out..but I can't..not yet. I have 23 chapters written total and I'm in the process of rewriting them, trying to find a way to make her more likeable because I can't stand writing her...but if you've ever had the desire to write then you know sometimes the characters just don't shut up...they're in your head screaming to be heard...so yeah.

And oh yeah. If you're new, welcome..it's nice to meet you..welcome to my crazily deranged weird world of crazy characters that no one likes and the ones we love who keep us coming back...


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

 **Present**

I sit in the car, the radio playing softly as I stare at the hulking building before more with trepidation. I do not want to go in there, I think. I hate the mall; I hate the people who come to the mall. I hate shopping.

In the center console, my phone chimes. Reaching for it, I open the message and skim it. Groaning as I shut off the car and get out, languidly making my way to the food court to meet Alice.

I quickly respond, letting her know I'm on my way in, and stuff my phone back into my purse. As I enter the food court, the blending of fried rice mixed with taco meat and greasy cheese steak assault my senses and I grimace, staving off the urge to hold my nose. Scanning the area for Alice, I spot her sitting at a table on the other side of the room. Sidestepping a couple arguing over a stroller and a group of teenagers, I head toward her, waving when she looks in my direction.

Alice stands and makes her way towards me. "Hey," she calls. "I was beginning to think you weren't gonna show."

"If I thought I could get out of this, I wouldn't have," I inform her, glancing around at the throng of people closing in on me. "Come on, let's get out of here."

We turn and head away from the sickly sweet food court. "Okay, so, where are you guys going tonight?"

I shrug as we pass a shoe store, glancing at the boots on display in the window. "I have no idea. Paul said to go get a dress and he was going to take me out for dinner or whatever I wanted to do."

"What do you want to do?" Alice asks, slowing as we approach a trendy store whose name sounds more like a noise you make when you sneeze than an actual, pronounceable name.

I shrug helplessly. "We don't do this kind of thing; I have no idea what this craphole city even has in the way of things to do."

"Okay, well what about dinner? Maybe you guys could go to that new place, Fresh I think it's called. Have you been there?"

Shaking my head no, we enter the store. I look around for something dressy and age appropriate. "I've never heard of it."

Alice approaches a rack and starts skimming through the dresses. "Come on, Bella, throw me a bone. If I asked you what your dream date was, what would you say?"

"Well, for starters, it would include not wearing anything in this store. This is for teenagers."

Rolling her eyes, Alice grabs my arm and we exit the store. "Answer my question."

I slow my pace and truly think about it. If I planned a dream night out what would it be? Going to all this trouble just to go out to dinner would piss me off. Dinner is fine as long as there's something either before or after; drinks and dancing or visiting a jazz bar.

Jesus Christ, I sound like some cheap magazine article. The romantic in me must surely be dead because the more I thought about this, the most romantic thing I could come up with was a night in with a huge bowl of popcorn and a couple of hours of Netflix.

"Netflix and chill?" I ask. "Is that an option?"

Alice snorted as a kid walking in front of us, turned, staring at me with huge eyes. "No," she says. "It isn't. Come on, actually try."

"Uh, okay, what about dance lessons. I've always wanted to learn how to do some of the dances they do on Dancing with the Stars. After that, dinner at some place that's not in every city, something unique. Maybe after that, drinks and live music, some conversation."

"Follow me," she says as she pushes through the crowds. I trail behind her, dodging people, strollers, even a German shepherd in an orange vest announcing him as a service pet.

We enter a store where soft music plays overhead. "I saw this in here the other day and I think it would be perfect for the kind of night out you described."

Alice holds up a black pencil dress with a sweetheart neckline. The shoulders and chest are black lace with more lace swooping across the bottom. "This is classy, it's just fancy enough that you won't look out of place if he takes you someplace elegant, but it's not so fancy that you'll look out of place if he takes you to, god forbid, Chili's."

I frown at her, unsure of her choice. "I don't know, Alice."

She shoves the dress at me. "Go try it on," she commands.

Taking it from her, I look around for the dressing room as a woman with a lanyard around her neck approaches us. "Great choice," she gushes motioning the dress. "Did you want to try it on?"

"Uh, sure," I stammer.

"Awesome. Come on I'll get you set up."

I follow her to the dressing room. The woman unlocks the door and holds it open for me. "My name is Melanie. If there's anything I can do for you just let me know."

"Thanks," I say and step inside the small room. Hanging the dress up, I look at myself in the mirror. I look tired; there are dark circles under my eyes. My hair is dull, my curls lackluster and flat. With a sigh, I undress and remove the dress from the hangar.

Stepping into it, I slid my arms through the sleeves and turn to look at myself in the mirror. Unzipped, the dress is baggy and unflattering. I grimace at myself and turn around, opening to door a crack.

"Alice," I hiss. "I need your help."

Her dark head pops around the corner, her eyes wide, arms laden with clothing. "What's up?"

"Come zip me up," I ask.

She totes her armful of clothing over, setting it down on a bench near the door. I step out; my arms crossed across my chest and turn my back towards her expectantly. She tugs the zipper up and steps back.

"Okay, let me see," she commands and I turn slowly. Her eyes light up as she smiles, clapping her hands. "Bella, that dress is gorgeous!"

"Seriously?" I ask skeptically.

"Yes. Go look."

I reenter the dressing room and stand in front of the mirror. Whoa, she was right. Turning from side to side, I glance at myself in the mirror. The dress hugs my body in all the right ways, making my waist look downright curvy.

"Well?" she calls through the door.

I take one last look at my reflection before opening the door. "I love it," I tell her excitedly. "It looks amazing. I was a little skeptical before you zipped it, but, wow. I think this is the one I'm getting."

"You look amazing, Bella. I think Paul will love that dress and you in it."

My smile stretches wider as I smooth my hands down the front of the dress. "I think so too." Taking a deep breath, I glance over my shoulder at my reflection once more. "Are you trying that stuff on?" I motion to the clothes she set down a minute ago.

"Yeah, do you want me to unzip you?"

I nod and turn around. Alice unzips the dress and I hurry back in to change into my clothes. Re-hanging the dress, I carry it out of the room. "Alice?" I call.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to look around, come find me when you're done."

"Mmkay."

Carrying my dress back on the sales floor, I search the store for shoes. When Alice found me, I'd added a pair of black heels as well as a lightweight wrap in a deep red that resembled wine. "Ready?" she asks.

"Whenever you are," I reply.

We check out and carry our bags from the store. Joining the crowd, we fall into step. "So, how is the hubby?"

"He's good. Worried about me because I've been such a basket case these last few days."

"Did you tell him about Jake?"

"No," I say with wide eyes.

Alice nods without saying anything. "Speaking of the spawn of Satan, have you heard anything from him?"

"Not a peep," I tell her. "It's been radio silence since the day I had lunch with him. Truthfully, I'm perfectly alright with that."

"Well, I guess that's a good thing then. Are you okay?"

Frowning at her, I nod. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because it's Jake. I know what he does to you, Bella."

"Yes, he messes with my head," I admit. "But I never wanted to hear from him in the first place. I was great with never hearing from him again. I didn't reach out to him, I didn't initiate contact. He did. I squashed it. I saw him, said my peace, and now it's done. I'm tapped out and he's gone back to whatever rock, or bimbo, he's been hiding under for the last four years."

"No need to get testy," she quips. "I just want to make sure he didn't do any irreparable damage this time around."

"Nope, no damage done. Good riddance to bad rubbish and all that jazz," I say with a wave of my hand.

"Well here's hoping all of this is finally behind you," she retorts.

"Amen to that," I reply. "Moving on, though, I think I desperately need to find a salon. I need something done with my hair."

"Ooh, good idea. I heard about this new thing going around-"

"No," I cut her off. "I'm not doing any weird or trendy crap to my hair."

Alice pouted before smiling. "I'm kidding. Come on, do you honestly think I'd talk you into some craziness on date night?"

I eye her dubiously. Of course she would. More than half of my bad hair decisions started with conversations similar to this one. "I'm not answering that."

Two hours later, with my hair trimmed and blow dried to perfection, I said goodbye to Alice and head home.

As I make my way through Saturday traffic, I think about what Paul could've possibly planned for the evening, worrying that try as he may, the night would be an epic disaster.

It wasn't that I doubted him; however, sometimes his gestures were just that. He tried, Lord knows he tried; he wasn't exactly good at showing his love. He'd come home when I needed him, or make me breakfast in bed on occasion, but aside from things like that, things outside of the house, he was essentially clueless. He'd never planned a romantic, or any, evening out.

As I pull into the driveway, my anxiety goes on full alert as my head goes cloudy. My palms dampen, heart starts racing, mouth dry.

Then the front door opens and Paul is standing there smiling his Cheshire cat smile at me and the blackness fades from the edges of my vision.

Shutting the car off, I climb out and smile at him before retrieving my purchases from the back seat. Carrying them up the walk, he opens the storm door and drops a kiss on my mouth.

"How'd it go?"

I shrug, showing him the bags in my grasp. "Not bad, considering."

"How is Alice?" he asks, shutting the door behind me, taking my bags.

"She's doing well, she says hi."

"Glad to hear it. So, I have a plan for the night that I think you're going to love," he says proudly.

"Are you going to tell me?" I ask, following him to the bedroom.

Paul sets my purchases down on the bed, sitting beside them. "Nope."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I want this to be a surprise." A flash of nerves shows in his eyes. Glancing down at his hands, I see him twisting his wedding band around his ring finger. His one tell.

"You suck," I retort, sticking my tongue out at him.

"I know. You'll just have to deal. I will tell you that you have an hour to get ready. We have to be at our first destination at five thirty."

"Um, our first destination?"

Paul nods his sneaky smile back in place. "I have a few things planned for tonight. And on that note, I'm going to shower."

He stands and struts across the room, his walk cocky like he just pulled a fast one on me. I shoot a glare at his retreating figure before crossing the room to unpack my dress and shoes.

In the bathroom, the shower turns on and I hurry toward the dresser. Sliding the drawer open, I reach to the back and retrieve the matching bra and panty set I bought on sale a few weeks ago. Quickly undressing, I slid the soft lace panties on and hook the bra, turning to check everything in the mirror.

Satisfied with them, I step into the dress, and using an old wire coat hanger I twisted and bent for this exact reason, zip my dress.

Shaking my hair, I stare at myself in the mirror. Not bad, I think.

The bathroom door opens in a cloud of steam revealing Paul standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist. "Holy hell," he breathes.

I glance behind me, my hair cascading down my shoulder. "What?" I ask self-consciously. "Do I look bad?"

"No," he manages to say. "You look amazing."

"Thank you," I reply, heat creeping across my cheeks. "I feel a little ridiculous."

"You look gorgeous, Love. So much that I'm starting to reconsider tonight."

"Don't you dare. If I had to schlep to the mall today you're damn well taking me out tonight. Now get dressed."

Forty-five minutes later, I was sitting in the living room waiting for Paul to finish getting ready. When he emerges from the bedroom, he was adjusting the sleeves of his shirt, tugging them so they popped out of from inside the sleeves of his black suit jacket.

My breath caught in my throat, a faint squeak emerging from my lips. Looking up at me, he slid his hands into his pockets and asks, "Well, what do you think?"

I stare at him wordlessly. His dark hair is pulled back into his typical top knot, he trimmed his beard and pulled out the nicest outfit he owned and never wore.

Suit coat and matching pants that were a shade of charcoal they were bordering on black, white dress shirt sans tie, the top two buttons were undone. He looked like the very definition of power and sex.

"You look fantastic," I finally say. "What have you done with my husband?"

"Cleaned him up a bit. Are you ready to go?"

I stand and nod, grabbing my clutch from the table beside me. "Are you going to tell me where we're going yet?"

"You're just going to have to wait and see," he says with a mischievous wink.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

 **Present**

Dusk is settling over the sky as Paul and I leave the house. Exiting our neighborhood, he reaches for my hand, his fingers weaving through mine.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" I ask. Shifting in my seat, I turn so I can get a better look at him. He smiles in the light of a passing car. "That's not an answer."

"If I tell you the surprise will be ruined," he says.

"Come on Paul," I whine. "I hate surprises."

"I know you do," he replies chuckling. "I'll admit I'm rather enjoying this."

"Enjoying what?"

"Oh, knowing something you don't. Normally it's the other way around."

"I hate you," I mutter, turning away from him so I can stare out the window and pout in private. "You're mean as hell."

"I know," he replies lifting my hand to his lips. "Just be patient, you'll see soon enough. Hopefully, you won't be too mad at me."

I turn back towards him, worrying my lower lip between my teeth. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll see."

I sigh and sit back in the seat trying to keep my imagination in check which proves difficult as I'd already began to imagine the worst. As he merges onto the interstate and heads toward the city, my mind goes wild with speculation.

Thirty minutes later, he pulls into a parking garage and shuts the car off. "Okay," he begins, "I have a few things planned for tonight. The first one is a block up the street."

I nod and peer out the window, trying to see what could possibly be in the area, however, the only thing I see is row after row of dark cars.

Paul glances down at my heels, then back up to me. "Are you going to be okay with walking in those shoes?"

"Oh yeah," I say with a nod. "The heel isn't very high."

With a smirk, he shakes his head and opens his door, flooding the car with light. His profile is cast in shadow making him appear roguish and rough. "Do you know how handsome you are?" I ask as I reach across the space between us, my fingers brushing his cheek.

Leaning into my touch, he sighs as he closes his eyes. "I love you," he murmurs softly.

"I love you too." Gently cupping his cheek, I gaze at him seeing the depth of emotion in his eyes. I want to freeze this moment, hold on to it for just a little bit longer.

I could hear the proverbial clock ticking ominously, counting down the few hours we had left. They were fleeting and few, disappearing in the blink of an eye. The days home never lasting long enough, they always left me feeling fuller while Paul was home and below empty after he left. I sigh sadly as I try to push the depressing thoughts from my mind.

Sensing my despair, Paul pulls away, taking my hand in his, squeezing gently. "Hey," he said softly. "Are you ready?"

Nodding, I grab my clutch and exit the car. He meets me, taking my hand and shutting the door behind me. Hand in hand, we take an elevator down to the street level and head north. A block up the street, we stop outside of a building with large plate glass windows. The soft glowing lights beckon from beyond the window, inviting us inside.

"What is this place?" I ask, searching the building for a sign that would tell me where we were.

Paul takes a deep breath and says, "You've always told me that you wanted to learn how to dance, and you always make comments when you watch that one dance show about how you'd like to learn how to do that kind of stuff, so here we are."

"You signed us up for ballroom dancing lessons?" I ask incredulously. Glancing from him to the dance studio back to him as tears well in my eyes.

Concern flashes in his eyes as he pulls his hand free from mine and bringing it to my face. Brushing his thumb across my jaw bone, he lovingly glances down at me. "Did I mess up?"

"No," I whisper. "Not at all. I wasn't expecting this."

"Want to go inside then? People are staring at us."

A soft giggle bursts free from my lips as I nod. Paul pulls the door open and we enter the lobby. I study the pictures on the wall as he checks us in for our class.

In the classroom, an older woman with raven hair pulled back into a severe bun greets us warmly. We join the five other couples already in attendance and wait for the class to begin.

"How did you even come up with this on such short notice? " I ask softly.

"Um, Groupon," he says sheepishly, his cheeks turning pink.

"Well done, you," I grin at him. "That was some smart thinking."

Paul pretends to pop his collar as he smiles smugly. "I'm not as dumb as I appear."

"I never said you were," I said seriously. "I don't think you're stupid, Paul."

He starts to reply but is interrupted by the instructor. Over the next hour, we learn the basics of ballroom dancing – proper posture, how to place our arms and hold our hands, even a few steps.

By the end of the lesson, I have a new found appreciation for dancers. The waltz definitely isn't as easy as it appears on television.

Taking my hand again as we exit the building, we step onto the sidewalk. Around us, the city has come alive. Up ahead, a lone saxophone player stands, his brass instrument glistening in the sulfuric light filtering down from the street lamp he played under. The mournful notes float in the night air, raining their sorrow down on us.

"He's very good," I remark as we pass.

Paul nods, turning down a dark side street. I tighten my grip on his hand as the light and music fade behind us. Glancing around at our creepy surroundings, my heart accelerates.

"Where are we going?" I whisper.

"Down the way a bit. Don't worry, we are perfectly safe."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes and turn back toward the well-lit street and the mournful sax player. I swallow my fear and keep walking. Up ahead, there is a faint glow, shimmering like a candle at the end of a long hallway.

The closer we get, the brighter the light appears. There is a wrought iron fence, a small opening in the center behind which sits a podium manned by a well-dressed gentleman. Behind the podium, a path cuts into a cluster of trees; string lights dangling from the branches, illuminating the walk.

Curiously, I glance around, wondering what this is. There is a faint hint of garlic floating in the breeze and the tinkling of voices. Paul steps up to the podium, smiling at the man.

"Evening," he says, "We have a reservation under Lahote."

A reservation? I think and squint through the trees, searching for a restaurant.

At the stand, the man consults a leather-bound book, his finger running down the page. He peers up from beneath his glasses with a smile and nods. "Right this way please."

Paul and I fall into step behind him. I glance around, trying to locate the source of the garlic and herbs, wondering if there is a tiny restaurant hidden in the middle of the grove of trees.

We approach a courtyard and I stare in awe at the scene laid out before me. Directly in front of me is a low-slung two story building. Black trimmed windows are evenly spaced along the walls. To my right are large stone columns, between which, I can see distant lights twinkling on the river. In the center of the courtyard, a fountain gurgles softly. The trees are sparser here, more string lights twinkling overhead.

Leading us to a table near the fountain, the Maître d' pulls my chair out. I sink down on the soft chair with an astonished gasp and continue gawking open-mouthed at our surroundings. As he wishes us a good evening and departs, I blink slowly at Paul.

"What is this place?"

"It's called Aurora," he tells me, nervously tugging at his shirt sleeves.

"How did you find out about it?" I ask, still in shock.

"I met this guy at a truck stop; he told me about it. He proposed to his wife here; said it's a really great, but relatively unknown, restaurant. There're a couple of bars and a lounge inside, along with a hotel and a spa. This is crazy, right? I mean who knew that a place like this even existed in our city?"

I shake my head at him, smiling. "You are full of surprises tonight."

"Good or bad?"

Furrowing my brow, I shrug in confusion. "Good or bad what?"

"Surprises," he supplies. "Are you pleasantly surprised or am I in deep shit later?"

I exhale, laughing. "I am so much more than pleasantly surprised. Did you talk to Alice by any chance?"

His brow furrowed in confusion as he stared across the table at me. "No, why? Was I supposed to?"

"No, no," I reply still chuckling. "I swear to God, we were talking about this earlier. She asked if I knew where we were going. I told her no. Then she asked if I could plan the night, what would I plan? I pretty much described this exact night. I wondered if she'd called you or if you'd called her."

"I haven't spoken to her," he says seriously.

"I believe you. I'm…wow, I-I'm speechless. How did you manage to plan all of this in just a few short hours?"

"I've had something like tonight planned in my mind for a while, Bella. I haven't had time to cement all the plans, though."

Before I can question him further, our server approaches the table and asks if we'd like to try the wine the chef has picked out for the evening. Paul glances at me and I nod in agreement. She scribbles something on her pad then glances up with a smile. "Have you been to Aurora before?"

We shake our heads no.

"Well, for starters, my name is Victoria; I'll be your server for the evening. I'll let you take a look at the menu for the evening while I go get your bottle of wine ready."

Paul takes the offered menu and the server breezes off. Setting it on the table between us, I review the short list of options, beef or seafood being the basis of each course offered.

"That's odd," I remark as I glance over the choices.

"I guess," Paul agrees. "I think I know what I'd like. How about you?"

Nodding, I sit back and look around once again, blown away by the magical atmosphere created in the courtyard. I still couldn't believe he planned this night in just a couple of hours and planned it this perfectly.

Victoria approached our table again, carrying a dark bottle of wine and two glasses. Setting the in front of us, she poured the dark ruby liquid into our glasses and prompted us to try it.

I took a small sip and nodded. Not a wine connoisseur, I couldn't tell the difference between this and any other bottle of wine I'd buy, but it's good regardless.

"Have you had a chance to go over the menu?"

Paul nods, rattling off our orders as Victoria furiously scribbles on her pad. With a smile, she informs us she'll be back with our soups in a minute and hurries off toward the kitchen.

"So," Paul began, setting his arms on the edge of the table. "How have you been?"

"Besides sick?" I joke. "I've been okay. A little bored lately, but otherwise alright. How was the fishing? Tell me truthfully now that you're here and I don't have to worry about you."

"It was a little hairy there for a while. There were some nights where the weather made it really bad. I'd worry about the guys until it cleared," he says, his hand resting on mine. "The rain and storms were bad this year. During one a few weeks ago, a greenhorn from another boat went overboard. They had to call the coast guard."

"Oh my God," I gasp.

"He's okay," he reassures me. "He made a mistake, is all. It happens. And now that he knows what could happen, he'll be more careful in the future."

"I wish you didn't have to do this," I say. "I worry about you out there. If anything ever happened to you…" I don't know how to finish the sentence; I can't finish the sentence. If anything did happen to him, how long would it be before I knew? I shake my head, battling back the dark thoughts.

"I know," he sighs. "But it's my job. I've been doing it long enough that I know how to handle it."

"That's not my point," I argue. "I just worry about you."

"I know you do, Love," he acknowledges. "I know what I'm doing. There's no need for you to worry."

"No, there isn't any reason to worry," I tell him. "But I will, regardless of what you say. I'm always going to worry. There's no stopping that."

Paul's hands pull away from mine as he glances over my shoulder. Victoria approaches with our soup and sets them down in front of us. We thank her and she breezes away with a nod.

Four courses later, I'm pleasantly stuffed and feeling slightly sleepy. After paying the bill, I turn toward the cobblestone walk to head back to the car, but Paul stops me, his hand resting on the small of my back.

"I have one more stop planned unless you're too tired?"

"One more stop?"

He nods towards the opposite side of the courtyard. "There's a jazz quartet playing in the lounge tonight. I thought we'd head over and listen for a bit if you wanted to."

"Sure, we can do that."

Guiding me towards the opposite side of the courtyard, we enter through a door and step into the lounge. The room is spacious and dimly light. A bar lines one wall, a massive stage takes up another. Along the third wall are plush, curved leather booths. Small round tables covered with deep red table clothes fill the rest of the room.

Paul leads me to a booth and we settle in as the quartet on the stage tunes their instruments, random bursts of music – clanging of cymbals, a blare of trumpet, the deep thrum of an upright bass, all clamoring to be heard above the others.

I cross my legs and lean against Paul, his fingers brushing my shoulder. From the cacophony of noise, a solid sound emerges, the notes of each instrument gelling together to produce an actual song.

A curvy blonde in a black halter dress walks to the center of the stage. The musicians glance at her and she nods at them. The sax player raises his mouthpiece and starts the song. An electric guitar joins in as she starts to sing.

I tap my foot along to a jazz rendition of Oh! Darling by The Beatles. Paul leans down, whispering in my ear, "I'm going to get a drink, do you want anything?"

"A whiskey sour, please."

Dropping a kiss on my temple, he slides effortlessly out of the booth. I watch as he crosses the room and approaches the bar. He moves with an easy grace, one hand in his pants pocket, the other swaying gently by his side. He leans against the bar and waits for the bartender to make his way down.

Leaning across the bar, he gives his order and waits as our drinks are poured. I should ease up on the alcohol, I tell myself. I had two glasses of wine with dinner and now the whiskey. He'll be carrying me back to the car if I'm not careful.

Sliding back into the booth, Paul set a glass in front of me, sipping his. We stay for three more songs before the whiskey and wine started to hit me. Yawning into my drink, I peer up at Paul.

"I think it's time to head home before I fall asleep."

He nodded his agreement. "I'll go pay the bar tab and be right back."

Gathering my things, I slide out of the booth and wait by the door. Glancing across the room, I scan the bar for my husband, my eyes lighting on a familiar blonde. I stare at her as I try to place her, certain I know her. She turns her head and leans in towards the man sitting beside her, her hand lingering on his bicep. His shoulders quake with laughter as her eyes crinkle, her face breaking into a wide grin.

When she leans back, her hand still gripping his forearm familiarly, he turns his head towards me. My breath catches in my throat as I gasp for air.

His eyes go wide as he stares at me, standing at the door anxiously gripping my clutch in my dampening hands. There is confliction is his eyes. I can tell he wants to approach me, his body tenses as he prepares to get up. I turn away as Paul approaches, smiling at him. He slides his arm through mine and opens the door for me.

I glance over my shoulder one last time at the man I used to love more than I loved my next breath.

"Bella?" Paul calls softly, breaking the spell I'd been under.

"Yes?"

"Everything okay?"

"Mhmm. Let's go home."

The night has grown chilly since we've been inside. Paul drapes his suit coat over my shoulder as we walk back to the car.

"Thank you for tonight," I tell him as we climb inside the car. "I had a fantastic time."

"I'm glad," he says as he starts the car and backs out of the parking space.

The ride home is quiet. I lay my head against the cool glass of the window with my eyes shut as Adele croons about being sorry for breaking her lover's heart.

Sleep washes over me, bathing me in peace as the singer's powerful voice provides the soundtrack to my dreams. The last thing I remember is the car swaying gently on the interstate. Before long, a warm hand is shaking me gently.

"Honey, we're home."

"Hmm?" I mumble drowsily, my eyes fluttering, trying to open yet fighting to remain closed.

"We're home, Bella," Paul says gently.

"Okay," I murmur. "I'm awake."

He chuckles softly as he helps me out of the car and into the house. I stumbled out of my heels and head into the bathroom carrying my purse with me. I sit on the edge of the tub and wonder if I really did see Jake in the jazz lounge or if I'd hallucinated that.

No, my mind tells me, reliving the way his gaze landed intently on me. That was real. So was the blonde with her paws all over him.

I roll my eyes. Typical Jake behavior. I don't want him so he runs out and finds someone who does. And he has the nerve to sit there and tell me that he wants me again. What a crock of shit. Fucking liar.

Fumbling with the clasp on my bag, I fish my phone out and unlock it, calling up the messaging app. Finding his last message to me, I open it, staring at the message he sent me, his words rolling around in my head.

Fury courses through me. Piece of shit, my thoughts shout violently. Lying bastard. Slightly intoxicated fingers fumble with the touchscreen, tapping out an acerbic message.

 _Nice to see you haven't actually changed. Hope you and your pretty friend enjoyed your evening._

I hit send and shoved my phone back in my bag.

Take that you asshole. I hope it hurts like hell.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

 **Present**

I awoke the next morning curled around Paul, his bare skin cold against mine. I wiggle closer to him, trying to draw his body heat into me.

"You keep rubbing up against me like that," he murmurs from under his arm, "We're gonna have a serious problem."

Giggling softly, I turn my face into his chest and kiss his ribs. "It'll be you that has the problem," I retort.

"Jesus Christ woman, knock that off," he groans, rolling over me, his arm coming down beside me, pinning me to the bed. His dark hair falls around his face, curtaining mine.

"Knock what off?" I say, raising my hips off the bed, sliding them across his groin.

He slips a knee between mine, pushing my legs apart. Grasping my thigh, he raises my leg, pressing me down into the mattress. "Teasing your husband. It's not right."

"I'm not teasing you," I murmur.

"Yes you are," he groans as I push against him. "I have to get ready to go and you're lying here looking like a glimpse of heaven."

I dare him with my eyes to forgo his responsibilities, dare him to take the next step and give in. Paul's eyes darken as he accepts my invitation.

As the sun rises, filtering through the sheer curtains, we make love in the brightening day. It's fast and rough, him staking his claim on my body as I take what he's offering and stow it away for a day when I'll need it, relishing the way his rough fingers grasp the soft skin on my thighs.

The room fills with the moans and gasps, the Oh God's and Yes Pleases, the air humid with perspiration and desire. I shiver as release washes over me, taking me to that place where the light is white hot, and my body tingles, my scalp prickles, and my toes curl with one last gasp before collapsing back into the pillows with a content sigh.

Paul falls to his side next to me, his fingers dancing along my rib cage as his breath comes heavily, eyes smiling.

"You're wicked," he says when his breathing finally evens out.

I roll to my side, tucking my arm under my cheek. Reaching out with my free hand, I gently stroke his cheek. "It's the reason you love me," I tease him.

Paul chuckles as he pushes himself to a sitting position. Glancing at the clock, he sighs and stands, the bed protesting with a squeak. "I need to get packed so I can get back to the docks. I was supposed to be there forty-five minutes ago."

Shivering in the already cooling bed, I wrap the comforter around me, sitting up, my back against the headboard. "I wish you could stay longer," I sigh as he stuffs his clothing into his bag.

"I know, babe." Paul rushes around the room, grabbing t-shirts and jeans, throwing them haphazardly into his bag without folding them. "I'll try not to be out so long this time, okay?"

I nod silently as I draw my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on them. This is the worst part. Watching him pack, knowing that he's still here physically but mentally he's already gone.

When he zips his bag, the normally hushed sound echoes louder than gunfire in the space between us. Paul turns to me, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Well babe," he says. "It's that time again."

"I know," I whisper. This never gets any easier. No matter how many times I tell him goodbye, saying the actual words always manage to stick in my throat, choking me. I slid off the bed and pad across the room, clutching the comforter tightly against me.

Paul wraps his arms around me, tucking me against his chest and cradling me there for a long moment. I breathe in the fabric softener and cologne lingering in his shirt. I want to beg him to stay, the words smashing against my pursed lips as I try to hold them off.

Running his fingers through my curls, Paul exhales. I know that he's watching the clock, trying his best to walk the knife's edge, balancing precariously between trying to comfort me and take care of his obligations.

I release him with a resigned sigh and glance up at him. "Be safe, okay?"

He nods, grasping my face and dropping a chaste kiss on my lips. "Always. I'll call you tonight."

"Alright. I love you."

"I love you too," he replies.

One last kiss and then he's gone. The front door squeaks as he opens it, the screen door slamming shut behind him. His truck roars to life in the driveway, growling as the engine warms up. I rush to the front door and stand there as he backs the electric blue monster out of the driveway. It grumbles down the street, braking at the stop sign at the end of the road, his turn signal blinking in the morning sun.

Then he turns and fades out of sight. The refrigerator clicks on, humming softly in the kitchen. The clock ticks, the second hand a thunderous explosion in the otherwise silent house.

And just like that, the darkness descends again.

That night, unable to handle another minute in the too quiet house, I call Alice and beg her to come over. She arrives half an hour later, a brown paper bag brimming with Chinese takeout in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other.

She lets herself in and drops dinner on the coffee table before throwing herself down on the couch beside me.

"Hey lady, how's it going? You come here often?"

I snort and point to the arm of the sofa closest to her. "No, but I came there last night," I say with a suggestive wink.

Alice leaps off the couch, her face screwed up in disgust. "Oh my god, you guys are just nasty," she snips, reaching for the bag of steaming food.

Unpacking the cartons, she lines them up on the coffee table, hers on one side, mine on the other. I reach for a box of rice and pop the tabs, inhaling the delicious aroma.

"I'm just kidding," I tell her as I poke at the rice.

Alice shoots me a disbelieving glare and opens her own rice. "Sure you are."

"I am."

"Mhmm," she says, her mouth full. "How was your date last night? What did you guys do?"

I swallow as I open another container containing what I hope is chicken. "It was unbelievable. He took me out to a ballroom dance lesson. After that, we had dinner at this place called Aurora-"

"Where's that at?" she asks.

"Downtown. You ever hear of it?"

Alice shakes her head no as she shovels more rice into her mouth. "Gimme a cross street."

"It's down like, an alleyway, sort of. I'm not sure. We went down some side street between two buildings. I was petrified. I'm like, Paul, have you ever seen a horror movie? This is how they start. Horror movies and the backstory of Bruce Wayne. Alleyways are bad juju."

Alice snorts and reaches into the bag pulling out napkins and cans of perspiring diet soda. Popping the top, she takes a sip then hands me the second one. "Okay, so Aurora. What was it like?"

"It was outside, believe it or not. There's like a hotel, and a bar, you eat in the courtyard. It was gorgeous, unlike anything I've ever done before. After we ate, we went into the bar and had a drink and listened to some jazz music."

"That sounds, eerily might I add, just like what you told me you wanted to do."

"I know! I asked him if he called you for pointers."

Alice shakes her head no. "He didn't call me, which makes it even stranger."

"I know," I agree. "It was pretty perfect, though. At least until the end."

Flashes of Jake sitting at the bar with the pretty blonde draped all over him flicker through my mind. The way his eyes appeared almost black in the dim bar lighting, those same eyes going wide when he saw me, the flash of longing that was there and gone in the blink of an eye. I shiver as if he's standing here staring at me the same way he did last night.

"What happened at the end?" Alice asks.

"Paul went to pay the tab, I was waiting by the door and as I'm searching the bar for him, I see this girl that I swear I know from somewhere. So anyway, I'm standing there trying to figure out how I know her. She's with a guy, and I dunno, he feels me staring at them or whatever and he turns to look at me, and, you'll never guess who it was."

Alice's eyes are wide, dumbfounded. She shrugs and shovels another forkful of rice into her mouth.

"Come on, guess," I prompt.

"I dunno," she says around her mouthful of food. "Aaron Rodgers?"

I wrinkle my forehead as I stare at her. "Who?"

"Aaron Rodgers," she says slowly. "You know, the football player."

"No, dummy, it wasn't Aaron Rodgers," I say as I roll my eyes.

Alice sighs exasperatedly. "Who was it then?"

"Jake."

"No," she breathes. "What the hell was he doing there?"

I shrug, taking a bite of a spring roll. "It looked like he was on a date with the blonde chick. They were all over each other."

"He's such a piece of shit," she snaps, violently stabbing her fork into the paper container.

"Yeah, you're telling me."

"Did he see you?"

"Yep."

"What did he do?" she asks curiously.

"Stared at me. I may have sent him a message last night. I'm not sure. I was pretty out of it."

Alice's shoulders sag as she looks at me with disappointment. "I thought you were done with him?"

"I am. I just wanted him to know that I was done," I reply defensively.

"Bella," she sighs, her hands running through her hair. "No more talking to him. You told me you said your peace. Leave it be. Talking to him is like picking at a wound and wondering why it isn't healing."

I fight the urge to snap at her, to tell her to mind her own business. Battling it down, I take a calming breath and turn to my friend. "Alice, what's the one thing you want more than anything else in the world?"

She cocks her head, puzzlement lighting her features. "What do you mean?"

"If someone came to the door right this second and told you that he would give you whatever you wanted most, the thing you covet in secret, what would you ask for?"

"A private conversation with Kurt Cobain. Then I'd want him to sing for me."

"Seriously?"

Alice nods, her dark hair swishing back and forth. "Yeah. I loved him, loved his music. It spoke to me on some level. Made me think that things weren't as bad as I thought they were, that they could always be worse. I was devastated when he died."

"I get it. So, you want something that you can never have, right?"

"I guess so," she says slowly.

"That's kind of how it is for me. Part of me is always going to want Jake. I don't know if I'll ever be able to make that go away. Part of me is always going to want to know if I can have him whenever I say so. I like that feeling. It's powerful, intoxicating, especially after all the hurt he's put me through. To know that I can snap my fingers and have him come running makes me feel good."

Saying these things out loud was wrong, feeling them was worse. It was true, though, I liked the rush that coursed through me knowing that, especially now, all I had to do was say the words and he was mine, whenever, wherever. It was also kind of sick to play with his emotions that way.

A small part of me said he deserved it, that it was his karmic payback. A bigger part of me told me I was playing with fire and I would be the one who wound up getting burned. I didn't care, though. I knew I would like the way he made me hurt even if I hated every second of it.

"It's wrong," I add. "I know it is. It's wrong to mess with him. He'll wind up getting hurt, I'll get hurt and I know if Paul ever found out it would devastate him." Sighing, I drag my hands through my hair, tugging the ends until pain shot through my scalp. "I just can't figure out how to quit him."

"It's simple," Alice states. "Cut him out of your life, same way he cut you out of his."

I shake my head, shrugging my shoulders. "I don't know how."

Resting her hand on my arm, Alice eyes me sympathetically. "I honestly don't know what to tell you." She sits quietly for a moment, staring into the empty space over my head before she speaks again. "Maybe you need to get it out of your system. Whatever that means. Just…think about Paul while you do. He doesn't know what's going on and he's not asking to get hurt. Don't hurt him in the process of you figuring your shit out."

"I'm trying not to," I snap. "Everything I thought I knew has been turned on its head. I don't even know who I am anymore. I'm so goddamn confused."

"What could you possibly be confused about?"

"I thought I loved Paul, I thought I was over Jake," I shout throwing my hands into the air. "I thought I was happy!"

"You either are happy or you aren't," Alice says seriously. "Just because something new has come along doesn't change the fact that Paul worships the ground you walk on. He loves you Bella, and I mean, really, truly loves you. He won't just up and leave you when the going gets tough."

Alice rises from the couch, her eyes angry, lips pursed. "I have to go."

I watch as she gathers her things. "Thank you for coming over."

She stops at the door, her hand on the knob she turns to me. "Yeah, no problem. I'll see you tomorrow."

The door slams behind her and her engine purrs to life, headlights illuminating the window. When she's gone, I sit on the couch and stare at the walls. The silence is back, buzzing loudly in my ears.

I reach for my computer, hoping to lose myself in something mindless for a few hours. As the browser page opens, a red number one glows in the message box.

Dragging the mouse across the screen, fear and excitement twist in my stomach. I click the icon and watch as the page loads, a new message from Jake waits at the bottom of the screen, the blue bubble flashing impatiently.

 _You looked stunning by the way. I should have told you. Don't think your husband would have appreciated that, though. As for what you think you saw, well, let's just say you're misinformed. You assumed what you wanted to assume based on past experiences with me. I get why you may have thought that she was my date; why you might have thought that I went out and found the next available girl after being blown off by you; you couldn't be more wrong about her or the situation. Meet me, I'll explain everything._

I exhale slowly, my entire body shaking violently. Flashes of last night float through my head as I picture how Paul looked in the dim light of Aurora, the way our bodies fit together like fingers in a custom glove as we listened to the band, how his hands held me with gentle firmness as he waltzed up through the dance lesson.

Did I need an explanation more than I needed the steady, unwavering peace Paul gave me?

Was I actually at peace with my life with Paul? With not having an explanation from Jake?

No, I decided. If I was, I wouldn't be sitting here weighing the pros and cons. I would simply tell him that I didn't need to see him; everything that needed to be said was said and we had reached the end of the road.

I would tell him that while he would always have a place in my heart, the rest of it was occupied by my husband.

I should.

But I know I won't.

Like I told Alice, I don't know how to quit him.

My trembling fingers float over the keyboard. Don't do it, the proverbial angel on my shoulder whispers. Listening, I pull my hands back, clenching them so tightly in my lap they turn white.

His last words pulse through my head. Meet me, meet me, meet me.

I reach out again as the proverbial devil cheers.

 _When and where?_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

 **Ten Years Ago**

Cap and gowns littered the living room. Some hung haphazardly over the back of the couch, from the lamps. There was even a hunter green gown swinging from the ceiling fan, somehow keeping time with the thumping bass of the radio blasting hip hop music.

Bodies writhed in the middle of the room, the lights turned down low, a strobe light flashing bright white light over the wriggling bodies.

Pushing past a group of people huddling in the doorway clutching red solo cups in their fists, I peeked into the miniature bathroom tucked under the staircase.

Finding it empty, I slammed the door and continued my journey toward the kitchen at the back of the house. Pausing in the hallway, I grabbed a guy leaning against the wall.

"Hey, have you seen Jake?"

Mike Newton opened his eyes lazily and slowly shook his head from left to right. "Not for a while Bella," he slurred, raising his cup to his mouth and taking a long swallow.

"Okay," I sighed in frustration. "If you see him, tell him I'm looking for him."

Mike tipped his cup at me and nodded. "Will do."

Pushing my hair out of my face, I continued on my way to the kitchen. Scanning the people packed into the small area, I searched for Jake's face.

Where the hell did he disappear to? I thought as I came up empty.

Strike number two.

Rounding the room, I reentered the living room. The fast paced hip hop song had been replaced by something a little smoother but just as rhythmic.

Jesus Christ, where the hell could he be?

I was tired and my curfew was quickly approaching. I needed to get home before my father lost his shit, especially if I missed curfew again.

Pushing the front door open, I stood on the porch scanning the yard for Jake.

Strike number three.

Glancing down at my watch, I cursed under my breath and turned back into the house. Spotting Alice across the room, I shoved my way through the crowd.

"Hey," I called over the music, grabbing her arm gently.

Alice turned to me, her eyes glassy. "Bella!"

I groaned inwardly. She was three sheets to the wind and rapidly approaching tornado status.

"What's up?" she slurred.

"Nothing. Have you seen Jake?"

"Not for a while. Why? Can't you find him?"

I shook my head no, peeking at my watch again. I had five minutes to get across town and no way to get there. I'd have to call my dad to come get me. "I gotta go. I'm supposed to be home in five minutes and Jake is nowhere to be found. I'll see you later."

I went in search of a phone and found one in the kitchen. Picking up the corded phone, I tucked myself into a corner and dialed my number. My dad answered on the third ring with a concerned hello.

"Dad, it's me."

"What's wrong honey?" he said, panic lacing his voice.

"It's nothing bad Dad. Well, not exactly. I know I'm supposed to be home in a few minutes, but I can't find Jake and I don't have a way home."

"Where are you?"

I rattled off the address, anxiously winding the cord around my finger.

"Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes. Wait outside for me."

We said goodbye and I made my way through the crowd again. As I stepped onto the porch a voice behind me called my name over the music. Turning, Jake was shouldering his way through the throng of people.

"Where were you?" I snapped. "I have to be home in like thirty seconds, and you weren't around."

"Sorry," he mutters. "I lost track of time."

"Whatever," I retort. "My dad's on his way to pick me up."

Crossing my arms across my chest, I turned toward the street to watch for my dad's car.

"Jesus Christ, why do you have to be such a bitch?"

My head snapped in his direction, my chest full of fire. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he grunted.

"I was hoping I was hearing things," I challenged.

"You weren't. You can be such a bitch sometimes. I was outback with some of the guys and you're acting all pissed off because I wasn't there at your beck and call. Get off my ass. Can't I have one night without you getting all pissed off because I'm not glued to your side?"

I stepped back as if he'd slapped me, my mouth ajar as I stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious right now? I wasn't up your ass. I have to be home. I have a fucking curfew. I'm not trying to start my summer grounded because you're off doing whatever the hell you want to do."

"You know what?" he demanded throwing his arms into the air. "I'm done."

"You're done with what?" I snapped.

"This," he thundered shoving his hands towards me. "You."

I uncrossed my arms and put my hands on my hips. "You're done with me?"

"Yes, I'm sick of this shit. It's always something with you, Bella."

"Yeah okay," I said going on the defensive, trying to hide the sound of my heart breaking in my chest. "It's me. I'm the problem. Blame me, Jake. It's easier that way isn't it?"

Jake rolled his eyes, turning away from me. "Whatever Bella. I'm done. It's over."

Headlights rolled down the street, slowing in front of the house, the engine purring smoothly from the street.

"You know what, Jake? Fuck you, okay. I'm done too. Have a nice fucking life."

Without waiting for him to respond, I fled down the stairs, fighting back the tears that were filling my eyes. Wrenching open the car door, I slid inside and slammed the door shut. "Go dad, now."

Without asking what happened, my father pulled into the driveway across the street, put the car in reverse and headed down the street.

I didn't look back. I couldn't bear it if he walked away, if wasn't chasing the car begging me to forgive him.

"Want to talk about it?" Dad asked as I sobbed quietly in the passenger seat.

"Not really," I whispered.

"Are you sure?"

"Not really," I reiterated.

"Answer one question for me at least?"

"What?" I questioned softly.

"Are you okay?"

I shook my head no as tears streamed down my face. "I don't think so."

Dad frowned, deep lines scoring his face. "Do I need to kick that boy's ass?"

I hiccupped and sobbed. "It won't do any good. It's over for real this time."

Dad squeezed my knee reassuringly. "You don't know that."

"Yeah, Dad," I said shaking my head. "I do. It's done. It's over. Whatever. Can we please not talk about this anymore?"

"Sure, honey, sure."

We rode the rest of the way home in silence; dad tapping his fingers awkwardly on the steering wheel, me sobbing quietly into the window.

When we got home, I silently followed Dad into the house, then slipped down the hall to my room. Pausing at the door, my hand on the knob I turned to him.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Thanks," I whispered. "And I'm sorry."

"Bella, what've I always told you? I'm always here for you sweetheart. No matter how old you are. I drilled it into your head that if you were ever in a situation like this that you could call me."

"I know dad."

"I hope so. I'm sorry that your night had to end this way."

I shrugged, glancing down at the floor. "It's okay. I'm gonna go to bed now, it's been a big day and I'm tired."

Dad appeared torn, as if he couldn't decide if I needed consoling or privacy. He settled for a nod and said good night, slipping into his room, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.

I entered my room and glanced around. I expected to feel different but I didn't. Graduation earlier today made me emotional, the realization settling in that high school was finally over, my childhood was almost over. Adulthood was barreling down on me. In a three months I'd be eighteen and heading to college.

Now I was doing it all alone and single.

Crossing the room, I ripped the pictures of me and Jake off the wall, throwing them on the floor. Picking up the flowers he'd given me before the graduation ceremony, I hurled the vase of across the room.

The glass hit the wall, shattering and raining down on the carpet. Sliding down the wall, I gripped my head, sobbing hysterically.

We'd been so good for two years and in the span of five minutes, our relationship fell apart. What the hell happened? What did I do? Why did he say those things?

The pain was blinding, unlike anything I've ever felt before. It pulsed in my chest, raw and aching. Bleeding invisibly, as if a butcher knife had been rammed through my rib cage and was being hammered in deeper, trying to pierce my soul. My breath came in staggered gasps, wheezing loudly in my ears.

My vision swam, the room dipping and spinning around me. Laying my head on my knees, I closed my eyes, tears dripping onto my jeans from beneath my lashes.

Sleep stole over me, whisking me to a place where the darkness was thicker, the pain a little duller. I dreamed of Jake in flashes, vignettes of the last three years together.

I awoke on the floor the next morning, my body curled in on itself. A knocking at the door thumping in my ears, reverberating in my skull.

Pushing onto my elbows, I sat up rubbing my temples. "Yeah?" I croaked.

The door squeaked open on rusty hinges like nails on a chalkboard, sending shivers throughout my body. A dark head peered around the edge, brown eyes like a melted chocolate bar filled with sympathy frowned down at me.

"Hey," Alice said softly shutting the door behind her and tentatively sitting down beside me. "You okay?"

Fresh tears stung my dry eyes. I bit my lip and shrugged as the tears slid down my face. "Not really. How did you hear?"

Alice grimaced her expression a perfect blend of anger and disgust. "I figured something happened when Jake came in alone, grabbed some red head and took her upstairs."

Sickness unfurled in my stomach, my breath catching in my throat as bile filled my mouth. Stumbling to my feet, I lurched toward the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I threw up.

After I emptied the contents and acid stung my throat, I rinsed my mouth mechanically and went back to my room.

"Better?" Alice asked.

"Worse," I replied.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't know if I should tell you."

"S'okay," I mumbled. "Not your fault."

"I know, but that shit has to hurt like hell."

Numbness tingled in my toes and crept up my legs, through my torso, flaming through my arms, my heart, and finally my head. "I don't feel anything," I said robotically. "I'm empty."

I leaned my head against the wall, my eyes closed. Alice sat beside me, not saying a word. I don't know how long she stayed. When I finally opened my eyes again, shadows danced across the walls and she was gone.

Clawing my way to the bed, I pulled myself up and under the covers, wrapping them around me tightly. Dad knocked at some point, asking if I wanted something to eat. I ignored him until he went away and closed my eyes.

I stayed in bed, the covers wrapped tightly around me. Alice would stop by sometimes, sitting at the end of my bed, filling me on the goings on in our circle of friends.

I zoned her out, staring catatonically at the wall until she would gather her things and leave quietly.

Dad tried. He would come into my room three times a day with food, setting a plate on my desk. At the next meal, he would whisk the uneaten food away, replacing it with a new dish.

I didn't care anymore. The world outside of my bed didn't exist. Nothing mattered except the numbness that was starting to feel less like an alien sensation and more like an old, comfortable, friend.

A few days passed.

Then a few more.

Then Dad had enough. He came into my room and instead of putting another plate of food that would go to waste on the desk, he stood at the foot of my bed, arms folded across his chest, his expression equal parts concerned and pissed.

"Bella," he said.

I ignored him, hoping he would leave me alone and go away.

"Bella," he said again, louder.

I closed my eyes.

"That's it," he thundered. "I'm done."

Reaching for the comforter, he ripped it away, sending me tumbling to the floor.

"Get up," he ordered. "You haven't showered or eaten in over a week."

I stared up at him in shock. The cool numbness started slipping away as warmth washed down my scalp, bringing emotions along for the party.

"Get up," he demanded. "Right now or so help me god, I will dump you in the shower fully clothed."

Mechanically, I rose from the floor, my limbs stiff and aching. Dad reached for me, guiding me across the hall to the bathroom.

I shut the door behind me, and automatically turned the water on, adjusting the temperature. As the water warmed, I undressed and stepped into the frigid stream, shivering.

Standing under the spray with my arms wrapped around my waist, I turned my face upwards and into the warming water.

Sweat and tears washed away, sliding down my body and circling the drain, disappearing. I washed my hair, scrubbing the hairspray and buildup away. As the last week washed away from my body, I fought the urge to think about Jake.

Finishing, I hurried across the hall to my room and struggled into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I ran my fingers through my tangled curls.

Dad knocked and said, "Bella, are you dressed?"

"Yes," I croaked, my voice hoarse.

The door opened and dad peeked around the edge. "Come eat."

"I'm not hungry," I murmured.

"I said come eat. It's not up for discussion. You either eat or I'm taking you to the hospital and they shove a feeding tube down your throat. Take it or leave it."

Sighing, I followed him to the kitchen and sat at the table where he set a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of me.

"Eat," he ordered.

Lifting the spoon handle, I stirred the soup, staring down as the noodles swirled in the bowl. Steam rose from the bowl, carrying the scent of chicken and childhood. My mouth watered and I wasn't sure if it was from hunger or nausea.

My stomach rolled, groaning loudly. Lifting the spoon from the bowl, I sipped the broth carefully, swallowing tenderly, moaning as the liquid hit my empty belly.

Taking another sip, warmth spread through me. Dad leaned against the counter, watching as I swallowed spoonful after spoonful. When I emptied the bowl, he refilled it and motioned for me to keep eating.

"You had me really worried," he said softly, his back to me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"I am too. I'm in over my head. I wish more than anything that you're mom was still here. She would know how to handle this a million times better than me."

"I wish she was here too."

"Want to tell me what happened?" he asked, turning slowly.

I shrugged as I stared at the bowl of soup. "Not really."

"How about you humor me and do it anyway," he suggested in a tone that meant I didn't really have a choice.

"Jake and I broke up," I told him, watching noodles float in the slightly yellow liquid.

"That much I gathered. What happened?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "We went to a graduation party and I knew my curfew was coming, so I went to find him so he could drive me home. I asked a couple of people if they'd seen him. Nobody did, so I called you. When I was on the porch he came out and just went off. He told me we were done. End of story."

Dad sighed, crossing his arms. "Little asshole," he muttered. "I knew he'd break your heart."

"I'm fine, Dad."

"No, you're not," he shot back.

"I am," I insisted. "Or I will be. Whatever. We broke up, it happens."

"Listen," he sighed. Crossing the kitchen, he pulled out the chair next me and sat. "Boys are dumb. I can't imagine what would cause this, but things in your life are getting ready to change. You're getting ready to go to college and everything you thought you knew is going to be replaced by the cold reality of truth here shortly. I want to say that maybe this is for the best, but I know you're hurting so it can't be. I can tell you, though, that maybe, this is just a door opening to something better."

"I don't want something better, Dad. I just want him." I drop the spoon and wrap my arms around my waist. "I'm always going to want just him. He's it for me. Always has been, always will be." I shrugged. "I love him."

"I know you do, honey," he said, his tone betraying his words.

He didn't get it, I thought. What Jake and I had wasn't puppy love or lust. It was this feeling of completeness and rightness. It was a smoldering desire to just occupy the same space as him. The fire raged bright and hot in the beginning, burning rapidly down to the embers that remained well after the flames died. It was a salve to my soul, something that healed all my hurts and fears. It transcended love.

"I just want you to keep in mind that there are other people out there who can take what you felt for Jake and make it ten times better. I thought the same about the girl I dated before I met your mom. When I fell in love with her, the world was brighter, the love I thought I was in before dulled and your mom, Jesus Bella, she set my world on fire. She was it for me. I never want to feel that for someone else because I know I can't. It's just not possible."

"I get it, dad," I told him even though I didn't.

We sat side by side each of us lost in our thoughts and knowing the other was lying but neither of us having the strength to call the other on it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven  
Present**

Staring at the group of women confined to the living room, I idly flick the pages of my book as I observe the ladies gathered around the room, the youngest being a pale girl with severe black hair cut straight across her shoulders lounging in an armchair, her legs thrown over one arm, her head leaning against the other. A copy of the book we've been reading grasped in her fist, her fingers splitting the spine.

"I really don't think she had much choice," the unofficial leader of the book club said. Angela, I think her name is, continued. "I mean, she loved him, but if she couldn't make him want to live, what else should she have done?"

I cross and uncross my legs, bored out of my mind and only half listening to the debate going on around me. Physically I was present, however mentally I was a million and a half miles away.

"Bella, what do you think?"

I glance up, startled, my fingers tickling the pages. "Um, I'm not sure. What were we talking about?"

"The book?" Angela repeats, phrasing it as more of a question than a statement. "You haven't shared your opinion on the story."

"Oh, well, um," I laugh nervously, glancing down at the pristine paperback resting on my lap. "I liked it," I offer lamely. "I thought it was good."

"That's all well and fine," another woman, Rosalie or Rosemarie, I can't remember her name, interjects. Whatever her name is, I feel an instant dislike rise in me as I return her gaze. Her eyes are beady, lie a rat, her strawberry blonde hair is teased and sprayed into a tall nest atop her head. She behaves as if she's the supreme ruler of the universe. Whatever she says goes. The other women are always quick to agree with her; more out of keeping the peace than actual agreement. Rosalie or Rosemarie turns her beady stare on me, her lips set in a menacing sneer. "You didn't actually tell us why you liked it."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at her. Instead, I say, "Okay. For starters, I like the characters eccentric style of dressing and her reasoning behind it. I love the fact that the author gave us a character that could be related to, but didn't feel the urge to go into explicit detail about what happened to her. She gave us an idea and said, 'use your brains to fill in the blanks.' I also like the fact that he didn't live because I really wanted him to, almost expected him to, especially after she confessed her feelings. I expected him to want to live because they fell in love. The fact that he still wound up dying made it worth reading. Honestly, I would've been pissed if he didn't die."

"But it didn't have a happy ending," the woman to my right moans.

"So what?" I shot back. "Is your life perfect? Are you happy? I can tell you, with one hundred percent certainty that I'm not. I'm miserable at least forty-five percent of the time, and that's on a good day. I don't want perfection shoved in my face because that is not going to make me feel better. I want real, I want honesty. I don't want some idealized version of perfect that I can never, not even in my wildest dreams, live up to. I want real. I want honest. I want unhappily ever after."

"That's a pretty cynical way of thinking," Armchair girl says to me. Kicking her feet off the chair, she rights herself, crossing her legs beneath her.

"It sure is," I reply.

She holds her hands out non-confrontationally. "I'm not judging," she says quickly. "I actually like what you said. I mean, so what, he dies. Big deal. I think the better question is, what is she going to do without him?"

I don't say that I already know. I don't want to spoil the next book for the other women. I joined this book club on a whim after seeing a flyer in the bookstore the other day. I hovered on the edge of the group while they met in the bookstore, eavesdropping to find out what they were reading, then bought the book, devouring it in just a few days. After I'd finished, I went out and bought the sequel, joining the group at their first meeting in the vain hope that dissecting a New York Times Bestseller would distract me from the looming emptiness that was my life.

And the fact that I still hadn't heard from Jake.

I joined, hoping they would distract me while I waited. What I was waiting for, God only knew. Paul to come home, Jake to drag himself back onto the face of the earth. I told myself it was something to do, so I showed up tonight.

Three minutes after walking in the door I regretted it. These women were catty, clutching their books with their claws out waiting for the opportunity to strike. They were the type of women who would smile in your face then stab you in the back the second you turned around.

Black hair stares at me, waiting for my response. As I open my mouth to reply, my cell phone chimes inside my bag. Reaching for it, I discreetly remove it and excuse myself from the group. Making my way to the bathroom, I lock the door behind me, sitting on the edge of the toilet as I check my messages.

 _Chances are, this message is going to find you pissed off at me. If you are, I'm sorry. I was called back to New York for an important meeting. I'll be back in a week. Can we set something up for when I get back?_

 _Sure,_ I type back. _What did you have in mind?_

Rising from the edge of the toilet, I flush for effect rather use and exit the tiny bathroom. In the meeting room, the debate was still raging. One side battled the other over the love and death scenario created in the novel.

"Sorry ladies," I call over the arguing voices. "Something's come up, I've got to go."

Without waiting for a response, I grab my purse and sling it over my shoulder. A few of the women call out goodbye as I leave, the door closing loudly behind me. I wave and step onto the porch of the tiny library, the frigid night air stinging my cheeks. Hurrying down the parking lot, I slide behind the wheel of the car and pull my phone out.

 _Dinner sound okay?_

 _Dinner where?_ I write back, biting my lip.

Dinner probably wasn't the best idea. This is a small town that doesn't forget easily. If someone saw me having dinner with a man that wasn't Paul, there was the potential it would get back to him and I'd have to explain the whole situation. Something I definitely didn't want to do.

 _I don't care. You can pick._

 _I don't think that's such a good idea. Small town, big mouths, I write. Someone might see me and get the wrong idea._

 _Screw them, he replies. It's no one's business._

 _Says the man who isn't my husband,_ I respond _. How about coffee instead?_

Perfect little bubbles dance on the screen for an eternity before Jake's response comes through.

 _Drinks in the bar at my hotel?_

I work my lip between my teeth. _Okay, fine,_ I write back _. When will you be back in town?_

 _Next Wednesday. How about nine o'clock?_

 _See you then._

I shut the phone off and throw it back in my purse. Starting the car, I drive around my small town with only the radio to keep me company. It was almost midnight when I finally arrive home. Sitting in the driveway, I stare up at the dark house, mentally cursing myself for not turning on a lamp or two.  
And for not getting a dog like I'd talked to Paul about a few days ago.

Hell, in those dark moments sitting in the driveway, I curse myself for not doing a lot of things I'd wanted to do.

The week passes in a blur of nothingness. The day of our meeting dawned clear and cold. Mid afternoon, Jake messages me, asking if we were still on for drinks later. I reply, fighting nausea rising in my stomach.

At five, I rush home to get ready. Standing in my closet, I shift through the contents, trying to find something suitable to wear to a meeting with an ex.

I find a casual dress, slip it on and address my appearance in the mirror. Deciding it was too much; I take it off and throw the dress on the bed.

I try on three more outfits, discarding each one for one reason or another. Finally, I decide on a pair of jeans and a tank top with a leather motorcycle jacket.

Laying the clothes on the bed, I shower quickly and blow dry my hair, straightening it as I go. Staring at my reflection, I realize I look ridiculous and pull it up into a messy top knot which looks messy and librarian-like.

Pull the pins. Shake it out.

Sigh.

Leave the bathroom. Dress. Feel ridiculous, like I'm trying too hard to impress him.

Sigh again.

Go back into the bathroom; pull my hair into a high ponytail.

Think about throwing up.

Don't though.

Thank god.

Change my shoes. High heeled knee high boots.

Feel too tall.

Change them. Feel too short.

Change them back.

Then throw up.

Brush my teeth. Reapply lipstick, check mascara.

Deciding I looked as good as possible, I grab my bag and head out, already running late. Crossing town, I pull up to the hotel and relinquish my car to an impeccably dressed valet.

The lobby was hushed as I stood outside the bar debating whether or not to go in. Taking a deep breath, I open the door and scan the room for Jake.

He was sitting at the bar, his back to me, his elbows resting on the bar, a drink between them as he stared straight ahead. Exhaling slowly, I cross the crowded room and pull out the stool beside him.  
Jake glances over, his expression stormy. When he sees me, his eyes soften and he smiles.

"Hey," he says. "You came."

"I did," I reply, standing beside him awkwardly.

He motions to the seat, nodding. "Sit, stay a while."

I pull the chair back and angle my body away from his. The space between us was too close, too intimate for comfort, his cologne mingling with the bitterness of his glass of whiskey. I wanted to lean toward him and breathe it in. My head swam with the intoxicating fumes.

The bartender appears, taking my drink order. He nods curtly and begins expertly pouring. Sliding the glass across the bar, he says, "Eight fifty."

"Put it on my tab," Jake says as I reach for my wallet.

The bartender nods, heading back down the bar. I turn to Jake, sipping my drink before saying, "Thank you."

"No problem," he replies, taking a sip of his own drink. "I asked you here, I should be the one to pay."

I set the glass down, pushing it back. Turning to him I ask, "Why am I here, Jake?"

He shrugs slightly, his fingers turning his glass slowly on the bar top. "I needed to see you," he says simply.

"Why?"

"Because of the way things ended last time I saw you."

"Which last time?" I ask softly.

"All of them," he shrugs. "I'm surprised you're still here, you're always running from me, Bella."

"You were always pushing me away," I say honestly.

"I was not," he denies. "Things were just…complicated."

"We've always been complicated, Jake. We're like one of those complex little Yosegi puzzle boxes. Sometimes we only need a simple move to unlock us, other times we have to progress through a series of sequential discoveries to unlock the mysteries of us." I lift my glass to my lips and tip it back, letting the bitter liquor slide down my throat. Raising the empty glass, I nod at the bartender who appears, sliding a fresh drink across the bar. I thank him and take a sip.

"Why were things always so complicated with us?" Jake asks. "That is something I've thought about a lot and never understood. Why couldn't it just be easy?"

"I have no idea," I shrug. "Maybe it was just the universe's way of telling us we didn't need to be together."

Jake sighs, running his hands through his hair. It's grown out a bit since I saw him last. I watch his blunt fingers drag through the dark strands. I'm so thrown off by all of this, sitting here with him, feeling calm. I wonder where the urge to rip his face and scream at him until my lungs explode has gone off to. It's almost as if I walked into a parallel universe where things turned out differently; where they worked out the way they should have rather than the way they did.

We weren't okay. Not by a long shot. There was a current traveling between the two of us. A tipping point rushing towards us, hurtling headlong through time and space waiting to destroy us; and strangely, I was okay with it.

I wish I knew what was going on in his head. Was he contemplating hitting me with more of that 'I want you in my life any way I can have you' stuff? Was he thinking about the past? Or better yet, the future?  
And underneath it all, there was a lingering tension. Some would call that the neon pink proverbial elephant in the room.

I called it Four Years Ago.

And she was sitting in the corner staring me down, daring me to bring it up, to face my demons and finally demand some answers.

"Jake," I murmur, my hand reaching for his forearm, my fingers dancing along his skin, hovering in the space between going too far and not far enough.

He turns toward me, his eyes lighting on my hand, then lifting to meet mine. His chocolate brown eyes were full of sorrow. "Hmm?"

"We need to talk about what happened four years ago," I whisper.

He nods in solemn agreement. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Yeah, we do."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

 **Four Years Ago**

 **Bella**

Time seems to shift in ways that sometimes don't seem possible. I used to believe that time marched in a singular, forward line; however the last four years were a lesson in the flow of time.

Six years ago, I lay in bed for half the summer as I mourned the loss of the first and only real relationship I'd ever had. I mourned for the loss of my innocence, the loss of the knowledge that every Disney movie I'd ever seen was a lie. Fairytales didn't happen and there was no such thing as happily ever after.

I learned a lot about fate as well as time. Fate interceded on happily ever after's behalf four years ago, dropping Jake back into my life on a warm summer afternoon almost two years to the day after we broke up.

And then life gave me four amazing years with him. Four years of happiness, of peace, of fun, of love.

We were so happy.

Our relationship wasn't perfect. It was messy, it was chaotic; it was fights on Wednesday and making up on Thursday morning.

Snow was falling as I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, counting hours until I could be back in Jake's arms. Thanksgiving had passed, December barreling towards us. Outside, the grey sky loomed, casting a gloom in the room. I wanted to stay in bed curled up with a good book, call Jake and have him come to me this weekend rather than me go to him.

Pushing myself up, I rolled out of bed. Life marched on even when I didn't want it to. My head spun as I sat up, my stomach revolting. Sucking in a deep breath, I coughed, mucus rattling in my lungs as I fought to expel it from my chest. My throat burned, my head pounding as the coughs wracked my body.

Damn flu, I thought as I made my way to the bathroom. I couldn't seem to shake it no matter how much rest I had, or fluids I downed.

I washed my face, applied some make up then dressed for work, stopping to pound on Alice's door as I made my way to the kitchen for a mug of tea.

"Wake up," I rasped. "We've got to leave in fifteen minutes."

I could hear her mattress creaking from behind the closed door. Alice cursed loudly as her feet slapped the wood floors. I drifted into the kitchen, filling the kettle and dropping it onto the stove top. I leaned against the counter as another coughing fit took over me.

Down the hall, Alice flew out of her room, a tangled mass of dark hair and trailing robe as she darted into the bathroom, the pipes groaning against the cold as the shower started.

Ten minutes later we were out the door, heading to the law firm we worked at. As we parted ways, I reminded her I wouldn't be home this weekend. Alice nodded and disappeared around the corner to her cubicle. I entered mine and got to work.

At five o'clock, I powered my computer down for the weekend and trudged out of the office into the pouring rain, following the crowd as my co-workers made their mass exodus out of the office for their forty eight hours of freedom from corporate America.

Calling Jake, I left a voicemail letting him know I was on my way and made the drive out of town to his cabin. Navigating the roads carefully as the earlier snow was melting under the pelting rain; I turned the radio up and hummed along as the scenery faded from urban to rural nothingness.

Trees lined the highway, obscuring everything but the narrow road stretched out ahead of me. Forty-five minutes I slowed and signaled, turning into a break in the trees and followed the trail to the cabin. Lights glowed warmly from the windows as a plume of blue-gray smoke rose from the chimney.

Rolling to a stop beside Jake's truck, I shut my car off and waited, hoping for a break in the rain. Thick droplets pounded the roof, lightning cracked overhead, splitting the sky open as thunder boomed, rattling the windows of the car; illuminating the trees from behind as the neon white bolt light up the midnight sky.

Deciding the rain wasn't going to ease up anytime soon, I took a deep breath, grabbed my bag and darted out of the car, slipping on the wooden stairs and throwing open the door, almost collapsing on the foyer floor.

Jake looked up from the stove, his eyes widening as he took in my drenched and disheveled appearance. "Are you okay?" he asked, dropping the wooden spoon he'd been holding and rushing to my side.

"I'm alright," I replied, righting myself. "My shoes are wet, is all. What are you cooking?"

Holding my elbow, Jake guided me toward the table as my bag sat dripping on the foyer floor. Taking my coat, he pushed me gently down into the chair. "Spaghetti," he said as he went to the waiting coffee pot, pouring me a cup and returning it to the table in front me.

"Thanks," I said, wrapping my chilled hands around the steaming mug. "Dinner smells good."

"It's almost done," he said from the stove, giving the pasta a stir. "I picked up a couple of movies, and we're stocked up on firewood. Enough to last the weekend hopefully; are you ready to forget the outside world for a few days?"

"Oh yeah," I smiled, sipping the coffee. "I need a break from reality."

"You sound terrible. Are you still not feeling well?" he asked, eyeing me as he drained the pasta. I glanced up at him. Something flashed across his eyes, sending a warning shiver up my spine.

I glanced at him, looking for a sign that something was amiss, not seeing it again, I shook my head no and took another swallow of coffee. "I can't seem to shake it."

"I told you to get a flu shot," he admonished. "Now look at you."

"I know," I muttered. "I will next year for sure. I'm gonna go shower."

Jake nodded, stirring his pasta sauce. "Go ahead; you have about fifteen minutes before everything is done."

I rose and crossed the room, grabbed my dripping bag and hurried toward the bathroom, anxious to get out of my wet clothes and into something warm.

The cabin's ancient pipes groaned and whistled as the water fought to heat. When steam finally started to fill the room, I stripped off my clothes and climbed under the hot spray until the chill seeped out of my bones.

Shutting off the water, I dressed in a pair of Jake's old sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt, joining him on the couch where a movie was queued up on the DVD player and a plate of pasta waited on the coffee table.

"What are we watching?" I asked as I retrieved my plate from the table and set it on my lap.

"Hitchcock," Jake said between bites.

I nodded appreciatively and dove into my dinner, watching as the mystery unfolded on the screen before me. Halfway through the film, Jake collected our empty plates as I wrapped a blanket tightly around me, stretching out on the dark leather sofa.

"Cold?" he asked reentering the room.

"A little bit," I admitted with a nod.

He crossed the room, leaning down before the fireplace and added a couple more logs to the raging fire. He poked the wood, arranging it just so. As the logs caught fire a faint hint of maple syrup flooded the room. I closed my eyes and inhaled the comforting smell.

Jake closed the guard and rejoined me on the couch, lifting my shoulders and settling my head on his lap. He started another movie and as the black and white light flickered in the dark, I found my eyes growing heavy.

We spent all of Saturday and Sunday camped out in the cabin, confined inside by the relentless rain. The crackling and hissing of the fire a soundtrack to our weekend as we relaxed on the couch; Jake right beside me physically but a thousand miles away mentally.

I briefly wondered if he'd somehow found out about my doctor's appointment last week and was waiting for the perfect opportunity to say something or if I was being paranoid.

His pensiveness continued through Sunday. We were eating dinner, Jake sitting across from me at the table, his expression vacant. Red flags immediately went up in my mind, heightening my anxiety. I'd seen this expression a time or ten and knew it meant trouble.

After an entire meal eaten in silence, he finally spoke. Setting his fork down, he looked up at me, his expression dark. "I've got to talk to you about something." He straightened his shoulders and folded his hands, his elbows bridging his plate.

Choking down the piece of chicken I'd been chewing, I set my own fork down and gazed at him, my hands shaking violently. Dropping them into my lap, I grabbed the hem of my shirt, worrying it between my fingers until the material was damp with nervous perspiration.

"Do you remember when I applied for that job a few months ago, the one where the company headquarters was down in Portland?"

I nodded wordlessly, wondering where he was going with this.

"I got a call from them the other day. A new position opened, one that I'm more than qualified for. They offered it to me."

Relief rushed through me and sighed audibly, my breath whooshing from between my parted lips. "That's fantastic," I gushed. "Is it in the city?"

"No," Jake said shaking his head. "The job they offered me is at their main office. In New York ."

"New York?" I echoed.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Manhattan."

"Um. Okay." Didn't see that one coming. "Are you going to take the job?"

He popped his knuckles and nodded. "I already have," he said. "They want me there next week."

"Next week?" I lean back in my chair, staring at him. "Jake, my job is here. I can't move to New York."

"I already have," he tells me. "I've got to be there in a week."

"A week?" I push my chair back and stare at him. "Jake, I can't move. My job is here."

"I'm not asking you to come with me," he said bluntly.

I jerked back as if he'd slapped me. "Excuse me?"

"Bella, this is a really good job. The amount of money I'd be making is crazy, and there are benefits."

"I get that," I whispered. "But…"

"But what?"

I stared across the table at him, seeing him but not recognizing the person who was seated across from me. "What about me?"

Jake's body language physically changed, going on the defensive. "Look," he sighed. "If everything works out, maybe you can move out there in a few months. There are plenty of law offices that you could work at."

"That's great, but…"

"But what?" he snapped.

"I don't want to move to New York," I tell him, my voice breathy with disbelief.

"Then don't," he replies snidely. "I'm taking the job Bella and there isn't really anything you can say that's going to change my mind. I hoped you'd be okay with this, but I guess that's too much to ask for."

"Of course it is," I fumed, throwing my hands up."It's always all about Jake, what Jake wants, what Jake needs. Screw everybody else, screw me."

I pushed myself away from the table and stormed into the bedroom. Throwing my bag on the bed, I tossed my things in haphazardly.

"What are you doing?" Jake asked from the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watched me rush around the room.

"I have to…I don't know. I can't be here right now." I turned in circles, scanning the room for my keys. Spotting them on the dresser, I grabbed them and shoved the ring into my pocket.

Zipping my bag, I slung it over my shoulder and headed for the door. Jake stepped into the doorway, his tall body filling the frame.

"Bella, stop," he demanded.

"No, Jake…I can't…I…"

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"What?" I snapped, tears filling my eyes. "You just told me that you're moving 3000 miles in a week and that I can basically go fuck myself. You pretty much told me that we're done. I'm leaving; now move, so I can go."

"Bella its pouring rain out there, it's not safe for you to be on the road." He moved toward me, reaching for my bag.

Sidestepping him, I walked briskly out of the room toward the door.

"Sit down, we can talk about this."

"There isn't anything to talk about Jake. Not a goddamned thing." I slipped my feet into my still damp shoes and dug my keys out of my pocket.

He stepped in front of me, grabbing my arm. Yanking my arm away, I shoulder past him. With my hand on the door I stop and turn to him.

"Don't worry about me," I told him. "You're unborn child and I will be completely fine without you."

With that, I yank the door open and slip into the freezing rain. As I slide behind the week, I see him standing slack-jawed in the door way. Shoving the key into the ignition, the car lurches to life. Throwing it into reverse, I slammed on the gas. The tires slipped in the mud, spewing pine needles and mud into the air behind me as they sought purchase.

When the tires found solid ground, the car lurched back toward the trees. Slamming on the brakes, I slid a few more inches and threw the car into drive, sending the car bouncing forward down the rutted path toward the highway. Massive pine trees whizzed by the window as the car sped away from the cabin.

Making it to the road with all four tires still attached, I gunned the engine sending the tires sliding across the wet pavement, the car fishtailing across the two lanes of the highway.

Tears streamed down my face as I leaned forward peering through the rain smeared window. Shock and disbelief, fear and heartbreak all battling for control of my discombobulated emotions. Flicking on the high beams, I squinted at the road, the bridge coming into view.

The lyrics of the song playing softly on the radio flitted through my brain, registering in my heart, breaking it all over again.

Fresh tears filled my eyes, obscuring the road. I swerved across the center lane of the highway and gasped, jerking the wheel and sliding back to the right lane and onto the shoulder.

Sliding the car into park, I shut the engine off and rested my head against the steering wheel as tears poured out; pain crushed my chest as the song kept playing, the words relating to my life in the most honest way.

"Oh god," I choked against the steering wheel. "Why? Goddamn it, why?"

Leaning back, I curled my arms around my stomach, cradling the tiny life growing inside of me. Holding on tightly to the last remaining piece of Jake that I would ever have; the last piece of him I would ever want.

Leaning away from the seatback, I reached across the seat, searching the glove box for a tissue. Finding it empty, I wiped my eyes and nose with the sleeve of my shirt.

Jake's shirt actually, I thought as fresh tears filled my eyes. How could he do this to me again? How could he just walk way, yet again?

And then: Why do I keep letting him do this to me?

Leaning against the head rest, a set of twin headlights in the rearview mirror caught my attention. Sucking in a shaky breath, I wiped my eyes again and ran my hand through my hair.

I won't let him see what he's done to me; I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing how terribly he's broken me this time.

I'm sick of giving him that power over me, I thought. I'm sick and tired of him being able to break my heart so well; he does it like a pro.

Behind me, the headlights grew brighter, piercing through the gloom, illuminating something standing in the road.

What happened next happened so fast, I didn't have time to react or register it.

A loud shrieking filled the otherwise quiet night as my car lurched forward and went flying. I screamed as the dark ravine and swollen river flew towards me. A dark shape rose up out of the dark, hitting my car. I rolled sideways with the car, tumbling into the door then back toward the passenger side as the car went side over side. Round and round I went, tossed about like a rag doll behind the wheel of my car.

The last thing I remembered before everything went black was my body lurching toward the driver's side door, my head slamming painfully against the door frame.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N**

 **Sorry it's been a while..We moved in the middle of a hurricane and it took a while to get the internet set up. Sooo..that being that...everything is kosher and updates will continue. And here's a shout out to Wendy Jh...I needed that..thank you!**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

 **Jake**

 **Four Years Ago**

Less than thirty seconds after Bella disappeared down the dirt path, her car bouncing down the rutted lane, I grabbed my keys off the hook by the door and went after her.

"Stupid, stupid asshole," I muttered to myself as I pressed harder on the gas, my ancient truck groaning as I shifted gears. Flicking on the blinker, I checked the oncoming lane of traffic to the left, waiting as an SUV passed, its windshield wipers waving furiously against the onslaught of rain.

As the SUV passed my drive, a small S-10 sped by, going too fast on the wet road. Pulling out behind them, I shifted into second gear and followed behind them at a safe distance.

The older truck lurched forward, rocketing into the night, the tail lights fading into two red glowing eyes in the night.

As the signs for the bridge came into view, the speeding pickup truck swerved, brake lights flashing. The hood of the truck swerved 180 degrees, slamming into a small, dark car parked in the emergency lane. Metal screamed as the two cars collided, the dark car sliding off the road toward the ravine and the river.

Clouds of smoke drifted out of the crumpled hood of the truck, filling the air with an acridly sweet stench.

Slamming on the brakes, I pulled off to the side of the road and dug my phone out of my pocket. Without thinking, I automatically dialed 911 as I opened the car door and rushed toward the smoking truck.

"911 what's your emergency?" a brisk voice questioned when the call connected.

"There's been an accident out on Route 23," I breathlessly told the operator as rain plastered my hair to my forehead. "A pickup truck hit a small car near the bridge and it's gone off the road, down the ravine towards the river."

"Which bridge on route 23?"

"The one closest to Henning's State Forest," I told the operator.

I approached the smoldering pickup cautiously, peering inside the smashed window. The driver of the truck slumped against the steering wheel, the deflating airbag shimmering in the watery moonlight.

The passenger wasn't so lucky. His lanky torso was dangling over the dashboard, his neck and back bent awkwardly over the hood of the truck, a thick river of red blood obscuring his face.

"Oh shit," I stammered, "One of the kids in the truck is dead, I think."

My breath came in shallow waves as nausea washed over me. I sucked in a breath, barely able to fill my lungs as my heart hammered against my rib cage.

"Sir, I need you to stay calm. Take a deep breath and exhale slowly," the operator instructed. "What about the driver? Can you check for a pulse?"

"I-I-think so," I stuttered. Rounding the truck on trembling legs, I peered through the shattered window. Taking a deep breath, I reached through the window and gently placed my trembling fingers against the kid's bloody neck. There was a faint flickering against my fingers, pulsing every few seconds. I exhaled a shaky, relieved breath.

"He's got a pulse," I breathed into the phone. "But it's faint."

"That's excellent, you did well. Now I need you to leave him where he is, okay? Don't move him. Fire and Rescue are on the way. Can you see the other car?"

I left the kid in the truck, averting my eyes as I passed the hood so I didn't have to see the dead kid hanging out of the window. Making my way to the edge of the road I peered down into the darkness, searching for the car.

"I can't make out anything," I said. "It's a dark car and there aren't any lights on this stretch of road. It's too dark down there. I'm gonna go down and check on the other driver, make sure they're alright."

"I need you to stay with the driver of the truck. Make sure he doesn't move if he wakes up before the paramedics get there. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, taking one last glance down the embankment at the car slowly sinking in the river. "How long until help gets here?"

"They should be there very soon."

Glancing back at the ravine one last time, I made out the shadowy image of a something in the river. To the operator I said, "Tell them to hurry. I think the car is in the river."

"I will," he said calmly. "Go wait with the other driver, okay."

I agreed and hurried back to the truck, checking to make sure the kid was still out, I thanked the dispatcher and hung up the phone. Scanning the road for the telltale sign of lights, darkness greeted me on both sides of the road.

I stood helplessly by the side of the truck, my shirt soaked through with rainwater as I waited, my hands shaking not only from the cold but from fear as well.

The distant wail of a siren tore through the night, faint at first then growing louder. Red and white lights appeared in the distance, cutting through the night. I breathed a sigh of relief as the fire trucks roared across the bridge slowing as they approached the scene of the accident.

Emergency personnel jumped from the rigs, rushing towards the pickup truck. Walkie-talkies crackled with static and disembodied voices barking orders.

"What happened?" a burly man with a thick mustache asked as he approached the bed of the pick up where I stood.

"I'm not sure," I admitted shakily. "I was coming down the road behind the truck when it swerved and hit the black car on the side of the road. The car slid over the edge of the road before I got up here. I called 911 as soon as I saw the accident happen."

I shoved my hands in my pockets, staring at the ground. Fatigue made my shoulders tight, my eyes blurry. I was weary in my soul. This morning I woke up and the world was mostly right. I knew telling Bella about the job would be hard, but I knew not taking it would be worse. But truthfully, I was scared. I'd found the pregnancy test in her bathroom trash can last week and freaked out. Then Lucas, Holt, and Morgan called with the job offer. I didn't think twice about accepting. I don't know why. I don't know why I always had to run. Some people have a fight or flight instinct but not me. I'm simply wired to run. I was a runner, and I never thought twice about staying.

For the first time since I saw the accident, my thoughts went to Bella. I wondered if she'd gotten home okay.

Pulling my phone out, I dialed her number as the paramedics and firefighters behind me assessed the situations – the kids in the truck and the car in the ravine. I half listened to their squawking walkies as the phone rang against my ear.

"Come on," I pleaded into the tumultuous night. "Pick up the phone Bella."

Behind me, someone shouted for quiet. The noise died immediately as the same voice called out, "What's that noise?"

I glanced around, pulling the phone from my ear listening for the sound. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the rain pounded the pavement.

"It's a Coldplay song," someone yelled.

"Where's it coming from?" another voice shouted.

A shiver raced up my spine as I finally heard it. Chris Martin's voice broke tinnily through the storm. My phone dropped from my hand as I raced toward the edge of the road.

"Bella!" I shouted, my feet slipping on the soaked pavement. "Bella!"

A thick arm wrapped around my waist, dragging me back from the edge of the highway as my feet kicked against the empty air. I fought against the arm, clawing and scratching it.

"Stand back kid," the voice belonging to the arm said gruffly.

"That's my girlfriend down there!" I shouted at him, my feet seeking purchase against the pavement. "Bella!"

"Goddamn it, stop!" he yelled in my ear, shaking me. "We can't save her life if you go off half-cocked. You can't rush down there and expect to help her. You have no idea what you could be walking into. So stop."

The firefighter released me, pushing me further away from the edge of the road. Shooting me a scowl, he pointed at me, commanding, "Wait here. Let us save her life."

I nodded weakly, sinking to my knees. A flurry of activity ensued as trucks moved into position; lights were aimed down into the abyss, illuminating the scene below. I crawled to the edge peering down at the scene the rescue workers were getting ready to enter.

A ten-foot wide path cut through ravine, trees bore deep scars, flecks of dark paint littering their wounds. Displaced bushes and shrubs lay like funeral wreaths around the car.

And the car itself was crushed, resting upside down I the swollen river, the Cobalt's tires pointing skyward as water filled the interior.

Firefighters wrapped in harnesses attached to their rigs disappeared over the edge of the road, slowly making their way down the muddy ravine toward the car calling Bella's name as they descended.

Reaching the car, they crouched down, peering through the shattered windows, their voices drifted up towards me.

Please, I begged God silently. Please don't let her die.

From my position, I regarded them as they worked, gravel digging into my knees, uttering prayers as I waited.

More men and equipment went down into the ravine as they worked to get the door off the car. Time slowed to a crawl as they pried the door open, carefully working it ajar.

When the door was finally freed from the car, one of the responders glanced up, his expression grim. He made a circular motion with his hand and a backboard and neck brace were lowered down. The grim responder lifted the brace and carried it to the car, leaning down out of site.

I pushed myself up, my legs shaking violently. Stumbling toward the man with who pulled me back from the edge of the road, I grasped his coat sleeve, clinging to him.

"Is she alive?" I whispered. "Is my girlfriend still alive?"

He gazed down at me, his pale blue eyes full of sympathy. "Barely, kid," he said honestly. "But we're doing everything we can to make sure she stays that way."

A sob tore at my throat as I fought to remain upright. "She's pregnant," my voice croaked. "Bella. She's going to be a mom."

"We'll get her out of there," he said firmly, clasping my shoulder beneath his massive palm. "Come on; let's get you to the ambulance. Is there someone we should call?"

"Her dad," I told him. "I need to call her dad."

He half carried me as I stumbled to the open doors of the ambulance where a waiting paramedic wrapped a blanket tightly around my shoulders. I sat down on the edge and dialed Bella's father.

Charlie answered the phone on the second ring with a worried, "Hello?"

"Charlie? It's Jake. I'm sorry to be calling so late, bu-but there's been an accident."

My teeth chattered as a violent shaking wracked my body.

"What happened? Is Bella okay? Where are you?" He shot each question at me like a machine gun, each one coming in a clipped tone.

"I'm not sure what happened. She was on her way home when her car went off the road and down an embankment. Fire and Rescue are working to get her out now."

"Oh my baby," he sobbed into the phone. "My baby girl; is she okay?"

"They told me she's alive, but it's bad," I admitted. "I don't know what's going to happen or what her injuries are."

"Tell me where you are; I'm coming right now."

Commotion at the edge of the road caught my attention. I glanced up and saw a metal basket being hauled over the side of the road. Two paramedics raced toward the edge hauling a stretcher.

"Something's happening."

Dropping the blanket, I rushed toward the melee reaching for Bella.

"Bella? Can you hear me?"

Words were being barked that meant nothing to me, medical jargon spewed in clipped tones belying the severity of her condition. One of the firefighters guided me out of the way, pulling me back from the stretcher.

"Let them work, kid," he said softly, his eyes trailing after the paramedics.

I stared as they rushed toward the waiting ambulance, and slid her in. One stayed with her as the other slammed the doors and ran for the driver's seat.

"Where are they taking her?" I demanded.

"St. Mary's," the rescue worker who moved me, said.

Bringing the phone to my ear, I said, "Charlie, are you still there?"

"Still here Jake; he said St. Mary's?"

"Yeah, they just left."

"Okay, I'm going now." He hung up without a goodbye.

Shoving my phone into my pocket, I dug out my keys and raced toward my truck. Sliding behind the wheel, I cranked the engine to life and sped off after the ambulance. Twenty minutes later, I skidded across the pristine hospital floor, clutching the desk as I panted.

"Bella Swan," I gasped. "Where is she?"

"They're still working on her, Jake," Charlie said behind me.

I turned and took in the haggard expression on his ashen face. Stepping toward him, I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"She's gonna be okay," I whispered. "She has to be."

Leaning on each other, we found seats in the waiting room as we sat side by side waiting for someone to tell us what was happening with Bella.

After an indescribable amount of time, a doctor in soiled blue scrubs entered the waiting room. Deep lines scored his face, his eyes bloodshot, his walk slumped with fatigue.

"Mr. Swan?" he called.

Charlie stood, shuffling toward the doctor. The pair stepped away as they discussed Bella, leaving me sitting on the edge of my seat as I waited for news. Their conversation was brief; the doctor clasped Charlie's shoulder and headed through a pair of double doors.

Charlie returned, tapping me on the shoulder. "Come on," he said with a nod.

I rose from the hard plastic chair and followed him through the hospital. The noise faded the halls less crowded, quieter.

"Where are we going?" I asked after we exited an elevator.

"Surgery waiting room," he said gruffly. "She's in bad shape."

A nurse directed us to the waiting room and we sat down amidst the other families waiting for news of their loved ones. I stared at the floor as my still wet pants dripped onto the linoleum, puddles collecting around my feet.

"This is my fault," I murmured, shoving my hands through my damp hair. "If I had waited until the morning to tell about the job she never would've been on that road."

Charlie didn't say a word. He sat quietly beside me, his elbows on his knees, his hands clutching his dark hair as he sobbed, tears dripping onto his pants.

I turned away, unable to handle the guilt I'd inflicted on this man. I replayed the night in my mind, pinpointing everything I'd done wrong and wishing I could do it all over again; do things right this time.

Charlie and I sat in silence as people came and went, faces melting into new ones every time I glanced up. Outside the window, the sky began to lighten, fading from black to indigo.

As the sky continued to lighten, a young doctor shuffled in, her face lined, her eyes tired. She glanced around the room, before softly calling his name.

Charlie started, jumping out of his seat. Stumbling across the room, the doctor reached for him, her arm steadying him as she led him to the hall.

I stared as she spoke, her hands motioning this way and that. Charlie collapsed against her, his shoulders shaking.

Fear gripped me as my heart started racing. Oh god, I thought. She's dead.

The young doctor leaned around Charlie, waving at me, motioning for me to join them. My body was heavy as I stood, my feet stuck as I fought to join them.

"She's in a coma," Charlie sobbed, grabbing the front of my shirt and clutching it between his fists.

Tears filled my eyes as I glanced at the doctor. She nodded and said, "Technically it's called delayed recovery of consciousness after anesthesia. It is similar to a coma, but there a multitude of factors that we have to consider. Bella could regain consciousness at any time, or not at all."

"Not at all?" I repeated.

She gave me a sad sort of smile and nodded. "Bella suffered a multitude of injuries in her accident. She's got a broken hip, skull fracture, broken ribs that punctured her lung and lacerated her spleen and liver. She had massive internal hemorrhaging."

She rattled off injury after injury, each one more severe than the last and with each one my guilt intensified tenfold.

"Can I…" my voice trailed off as my throat tightened. I took a deep breath, swallowed and tried again. "Can I see her?"

The doctor addressed to Charlie who nodded in acquiescence. "Alright," she said to me. "But only for a few minutes. She's been through a lot and needs her rest."

She led the way through the maze-like corridors, her sneakers squeaking on the waxed floors. We came through a double door that opened automatically after she swiped her I.D. badge. Walking down a quiet hallway, she stopped outside of a room with the door cracked slightly and turned to me.

"I want you to be prepared," she said softly. "Bella sustained a lot of injuries and will have a long road to recovery ahead of her."

I nodded, glancing over her shoulder. Charlie was down the hall a bit, reading a sign on the wall. I turned back toward the door and dropped my voice to a whisper. "The baby?"

She cast her eyes down and shook her head. "We did everything we could," she said softly. "I'm genuinely sorry."

Pain washed over me as tears stung my eyes. Oh god, what have I done?

"Can I go in?" I asked numbly.

She gripped my bicep and nodded. "Just for a few minutes, alright?"

Turning, I pushed the door open, my palms sweating profusely. Bella lay in the bed, the crisp white blankets tucked up under her chest, her bruised arms lying lifelessly by her sides.

Her left eye was swollen shut, a purpling bruise rising to the surface of her porcelain skin. Her hair was shaved from her ear to the center of her head; a plain white cast encompassed her right arm.

On the other side of the bed, a monitor beeped quietly, keeping track of her vitals. I shuffled toward the chair stationed beside the bed and sank down. Reaching for her hand, I traced a line across her palm.

"Bella," I called softly. "Can you hear me?"

The jagged lines on the monitor remained steady, spiking and dipping at the same interval as when I walked in.

"Bella, I'm so sorry," I breathed as I ran my hands through my hair. "There is no way you can ever forgive me. I get that. I truly do. But I don't know what to do. I don't think I can bear spending the rest of my life knowing what I did to you and to our-" my voice cracked, coming out now as a whisper. "Baby."

I scrutinized her, waiting for her to wake up, to turn and smile at me. She laid there, eyes closed, her chest rising and falling.

"I love you, Bella. I've loved you for as long as I can remember and I'll love you for the rest of my life but…I don't deserve you. So I've got to let you go, I have to let you go so you can be better off." Tears filled my eyes at what I was about to do. "You'll be better off without me."

I kissed my forefingers and gently pressed them to her forehead. "I love you."

Then I turned and left the room.

I didn't look back.

I couldn't.

In the hallway, I said goodbye to Charlie and left the hospital.

When I got home, I threw everything that meant something to me into a bag and called Lucas, Holt, and Morgan.

When I reached the voicemail of my boss, I left a message saying I'd be there in two days time, ready to start immediately upon my arrival.

Then I locked the cabin and tossed my bags into the bed of the truck and headed toward New York.

Four years passed before I looked back.

Four long years of carrying around a world of guilt.

Four years of missing the one person in the world who meant everything to me.

Four exceedingly long years.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

 **Four Years Ago**

 **Bella**

When the darkness finally began to fade, the pain set in. Unimaginable pain. Torment that radiated through my head and down my neck, through my arms and legs, pounding in my torso; this was an agony I had never endured before in my life.

Then there was the emptiness. I couldn't describe the feeling any further than that. A vast emptiness in my soul that couldn't seem to be filled and couldn't be placed; the loss hovered in my body, but I didn't know what caused the barrenness.

Opening my eyes, I blinked slowly at the room around me. Over my right shoulder, something was beeping incessantly, keeping time with my heart. I glanced left, my eyes landing on the sleeping form of my father, snoring in a chair beside my bed. I opened my mouth to call his name. Something hard and plastic pressed against my tongue.

Panicking, I reached up, my fingers traveling along a length of plastic tubing. I groaned, gagging against it.

Dad's eyes fluttered open, taking in my open eyes and fingers tugging at the plastic tubing.

"No, Bella, don't," he ordered, surging out of his chair to my side. Glancing over his shoulder he called out for help.

A twiggy nurse rushed into the room and made her way to my bed. "Well look who's finally awake. Good afternoon sleeping beauty. Have a nice nap?"

I gagged again, pointing at the tube.

"Oh sure. Let's pull that out of there."

She set about removing the tube, chatting idly as she did so. I gagged as plastic slid out of my throat and left my mouth.

"Better?" Dad asked.

I nodded, pointing toward his cup.

"Drink?"

I nodded, waiting while he poured me a glass of water and unwrapped a straw. Bringing it to my lips, I took several long burning swallows.

"Thank you," I croaked when the glass was empty. "Where am I?"

"St. Mary's Hospital," Dad said taking his seat beside me again.

"How long have I been here?"

"Almost a month. Do you remember what happened?"

I closed my eyes as flashes flickered through my head at rapid speed. "I was in an accident. My car went down the embankment near the bridge by Jake's house." I looked around for some indication he'd been here recently.

Flowers lined the window sill and several bouquets spilled over onto the tables. A couple of balloons floated overhead, wishing I get well soon.

Dad's coat was lying on the corner of the couch, a folded up newspaper beside it, but no signs of Jake.

"He hasn't been here," Dad said. "Not since the night of the accident."

I cocked my head at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"He came in here after they brought you out of surgery, stayed for a few minutes then left. I figured he'd be back, but he never came."

I closed my eyes as a fresh wave of discomfort washed over me. "He took the job," I stated.

"What job?"

"He was offered a job in Portland. We got into a fight about him leaving so I left. That's how I ended up here. I was crying on the side of the road when that car hit me. He took the job anyway. That selfish prick."

Dad reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. "Everything'll be okay, Bella. I'm pissed he just took off on you like that, but you'll be alright. We'll make this work somehow."

"I'm exhausted Dad. Do you mind if I take a nap?"

"No, sweetheart, go ahead. I'm going to run home for a shower. You'll be okay?"

I stared at my dad, noticing for the first time the deep lines etched into his face near his eyes and the dark hair at his temple fading to gunmetal gray.

"I'll be fine dad, go home. Shower, hell, sleep. I'll be here."

He collected his coat, kissed my forehead and left the room. I closed my eyes and leaned against the pillows, letting sleep overtake me.

Sleep didn't last too long. Shortly after I fell asleep, my doctor entered the room calling out a soft hello. My eyelids fluttered open, taking in the sight of an unusually short man staring at me, a silver clipboard clutched in his grasp.

"Hello," he addressed me. "I'm Doctor Saheere, how are you feeling?"

"I've felt better," I admitted. "Everything hurts."

"I would assume so," he said, referencing my chart. "You broke a lot of bones."

"What about my baby?" I asked hopefully. I was painfully aware the chances of the baby surviving were slim, but I had to know for certain.

Dr. Saheere cast his eyes down, scanning the chart. When he looked up, his black eyes were full of sympathy.

"I'm sor-"

I held up my hand cutting him off. I couldn't bear to hear the words, couldn't handle having him say it. I turned away as tears filled my eyes. Not only did I lose Jake, I lost the baby as well.

Jesus, was there no end to the agony?

Dr. Saheere consulted his clipboard, then set the chart down on the tray table.

"I'd like to take a look at your sutures, is that okay?"

I nodded, still staring at the wall, not meeting his eye as he parted my gown and began removing my bandages. He pressed my stomach, pressing firmly on the bruised skin, taking note when I winced and gasped in discomfort.

"Does that hurt?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"A little, yes," I replied.

"Your ribs have healed nicely; your incisions are also almost fully healed. A neurosurgeon will be by later today to take you for some scans to check out your skull fracture and to make sure everything upstairs is working well."

"Super," I muttered. "Sounds like I got myself Humpty Dumptied and you guys put me back together."

"For the most part," Dr. Saheere replied softly. "I am very sorry about the baby. We fought like hell to save the fetus. The damage was just too severe."

"I understand," I said.

"Alright, well, unless you have any questions, I'll let you get some rest."

"Can you maybe turn that down?" I asked, pointing at the vitals monitor.

"Oh sure," he replied, making his way to the monitor and quieting it.

Silence filled the room as the doctor made his way out, shutting the door behind him. I lay on my back staring up at the ceiling. My thoughts went to Jake. I couldn't believe he would up and leave while I was in the hospital. I wasn't expecting him to stay indefinitely, he'd made it extremely clear he was taking the job regardless of my feelings on the job, but I was in the hospital, my life hanging in the balance.

I wondered if he even bothered to find out if the baby survived the accident. Turning slightly, I reached for the phone. Grasping it, I dialed his number and pressed the phone gently to my ear.

Three beeps sounded, then a robotic female voice said, "The number you dialed is not in service. Please check the number you dialed and try your call again."

Pulling the phone away from my ear, I stared blankly at the screen. Was his number no longer in service? Seriously?

Rolling to my side, I placed the phone back on the receiver and, wincing, rolled back onto my back. Closing my eyes, I tried to block out the tumultuous emotions rolling around my head and my heart.

Slipping back into sleep, my demons chased me, mocking and laughing at me as I tried to outrun them. A hand shook me awake, flooding light on the darkness.

"Bella, honey, wake up."

My eyelids fluttered open, landing on my dad leaning over the edge of the bed. "Dad," I breathed. "Hi."

"Hi honey," he chuckled softly.

"You were supposed to go home and sleep," I told him.

"I did, sweetheart," he murmured brushing my hair off my forehead. "Today's a brand new day. Did you sleep well?"

"I-what? No. I guess not," I stammered.

"I'm so sorry, Bella. Want me to leave so you can rest?"

"No dad," I said, reaching for his hand. "Stay, please."

"Of course honey," he replied, sinking down into the chair beside my bed. "So, what's new?"

I laughed, clutching my side as pain tore through me. "Absolutely nothing. Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

I turned my head to face him. "What happened? That night, I mean. How did I wind up here?"

Dad sat back, crossing his legs. "Two teenage boys were headed to a party; they were speeding down Route 23, going way too fast for the weather. A deer darted out into the road, the driver slammed on the brakes; they skidded across the slick road and slammed into you, pushing your car down the embankment. The rescue workers said your car flipped at least once, but they think it was a couple of times, and landed upside down in the river."

"What happened to the other people? Did they survive?"

Dad frowned, shaking his head. "Unfortunately no. The passenger of the pickup wasn't wearing a seatbelt. The driver was, he was taken to the hospital but died later from his injuries."

I shook my head. So much tragedy and for what? What purpose did all of this serve?

"What's wrong honey?"

"I don't understand dad. I don't understand how the world works. I don't understand why teenage boys have to die, why my boyfriend can't just be happy with what we had. Why does everything have to be so goddamned complicated?"

A furious rage rose in me and I wanted nothing more than to rail against the world, to punch and kick something, to scream until my vocal chords bled with the injustice of the world we lived in. Most of all I wanted to hit Jake. I wanted to pummel him until he regained all his good sense.

"Jake disconnected his phone," I muttered. "The freaking coward disconnected his phone."

"I know," Dad murmured. "I tried to call a time or two."

"Why dad?" I pleaded. "Why does he keep doing this me? Better yet, why do I keep letting him hurt me?"

Dad shrugged, his shoulders bouncing under the weight of his sweater. "I wish I knew. I wish I could tell you why the people we love have to hurt us. Maybe suffering makes us better people, you know the whole entering the fire and emerging as steel. Maybe this is a test. Maybe this is just the way the world works. I really don't know."

I reached for his hand, wrapping my fingers around his and squeezing tightly. "I love you, Dad. Promise you won't leave me too?"

"I promise, Bella," he said squeezing back. "I promise."

Three weeks later I was discharged from the hospital. Dad loaded up the vases of flowers, the balloons, and the stuffed animals and drove me back to our house.

Most of my injuries had healed, but I was still in some discomfort. Dad helped me down the hall and into bed. After rearranging the pillows and making sure I was comfortable, he left me alone.

I flipped open my laptop and went through my email and social media accounts. My page was flooded with a plethora of get well messages and feel better soon comments. I closed the page after seeing Jake's account was no longer active, and skimmed through my emails.

After deleting the junk, I got to the bottom of the page and noticed an email from an address I didn't recognize.

Clicking the subject, I read the one line.

 _I'm sorry._

Angrily, I deleted the message and closed the laptop wondering briefly if it made him feel better because that sorry ass excuse of an apology sure as hell didn't do shit for me.

Life marches on, I soon realized. People moved on, forgot.

People. Not me. I didn't move on. I didn't forget.

Some part of me died in the river that night. Some part of me didn't move on.

I became rather exceptional at pretending I was fine. Talented at forcing smiles so convincing, even my father believed I was getting better.

But I never forgot, and I couldn't move on.

At least not until I got some answer. Answers I wasn't going to find out anytime soon.

Hell, probably ever.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

 **Bella**

 **Present**

Taking a deep breath, I dive right in. Rip the band-aid off, if you will.

"Why'd you leave?"

He blinks slowly at me, his lips twitching as he struggles to supply a reason. Jake glances down at the bar top, his dark lashes resting against his cheekbones. After a moment, his looks up at me, his eyes full of tears.

"I did that to you," he whispers. "I put you on that road, in the way of that truck. Everything that happened that night was because of me. It's my fault."

I shake my head no, the desire to reach for him overwhelming me. Jake pulls his arm away, roughly grabbing his drink and finishing it in a single swallow. He motions the bartender for another and turns toward me.

"I was an arrogant prick," he admits. "I pushed you away on purpose that day. Things were going so good, then I found the pregnancy test in the trash and I just…freaked out. I didn't know what to do. We hadn't been together for long, were we ready for a kid? I mean…what if…shit I don't know." He stops, throws back his drink and slams the empty glass on the bar. Exhaling raggedly, he runs his hands through his hair and takes a deep breath. "Then Lucas, Holt, and Morgan called and I dunno…it just seemed like the right thing to do. Until I told you and things went so horribly wrong. The second you walked out the door I knew what I wanted and it wasn't in Oregon. It was here, with you and our baby."

"So why didn't you come after me?"

"I did!" he shouts. "Jesus Christ. I was on the road when that truck hit you! I was the one who called 911. I watched the whole goddamned thing happen. At first, I didn't know it was you, then I tried to call you and that goddamned Coldplay song you loved so much started playing from the bottom of the ravine and I lost my fucking mind. I tried to save you. I tried to climb down there after you. Then later, at the hospital, the doctor let me see you after you got out of surgery and when I walked into that room…Jesus, Bella. I didn't think you were going to live. And when I saw you lying there after the doctor told us you were in a coma…all I could think about was the baby. All I felt was this overwhelming guilt. I almost got you killed, I killed our baby…I think I just figured you were better off without me; all I ever did was hurt you. Just because I let you go doesn't mean I wanted to."

My heart starts to race, the thumping in my head turned my vision red. Reflexively, I reach out and smack Jake, my hand connecting with his chest, my palm stinging.

"You're such a chicken shit," I hiss. "Such a fucking coward; I was fighting for my life Jake, my damn life! And all you could think about was yourself. The guilt you felt, the fear you felt. You made a decision for me without taking into consideration what I might have wanted. You let me go because you wanted to. You could have stayed. You didn't want to. My being in a coma was the perfect opportunity for you to run away and not look back. Just…shit…be a man and admit it for once in your goddamned life."

Anger flashed in his eyes, his irises darkening and narrowing. "You know what? Yeah, Bella, you're right. I didn't want to be a father. I was twenty-four years old, working a shit job and living in a shit cabin in the middle of the woods. What kind of life could I have given a kid?"

"Who the hell knows?" I shoot back, my own anger growing by the second. "Who cares? That kid would have loved you regardless of where you lived or worked. I loved you regardless of it."

"That's the whole fucking point! You didn't want me to better myself because you were happy with who I was and I wasn't."

"Jake, I loved you as a person. You could have been homeless or you could have been a billionaire. It wouldn't have changed how I felt about you! I wanted you, not your job or your house. I would have been happy with whatever you gave me."

"And I would have been miserable," he counters. "God, Bella, why can't you see that? I wanted to be better for you. You deserved that. I wanted to be a man you could be proud of, a man who could give you the best life possible."

"Yeah, and in your quest for that, you lost me."

Jake sighs, running his hands through his hair. Gripping his neck, his shakes his head as he stares at the bar top.

"Yeah," he admits dejectedly. "Yeah I did."

I lift my drink and take a sip, the bourbon smooth on my tongue. "I hate this," I admit after swallowing the rest of the drink. "I just wish…"

"What?"

"For the impossible," I sigh. "I want the last four years back. I want a do-over. But then again, I don't."

"Why not?"

"Paul," I tell him simply. "I don't want him to get hurt. I love him, Jake."

"I figured as much," he says bitterly.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. I love him. He's my now, you're my then. We don't have a future, not like you're hoping for. And for that, I am sorry. Because I care about you and I don't want you to get hurt either."

"Do you think we could be friends again?"

I shrug as I stare at him. My eyes roam the face that I know almost as well as my own. God, I still care about him so much. My feelings are different than the ones I have for Paul, but they're feelings nevertheless. I sigh as confusion seeps into my alcohol soaked brain.

"Jake," I sigh.

"Don't," he cuts me off.

"No, listen." I reach for him, my fingers resting on his forearm. "I have a feeling I'll regret this in the morning. I think we could try. But I won't have any more of this 'I want you back' business. Friends. Nothing more, nothing less. The second it gets weird, or you start asking for more, I'm walking away. Got it?"

Jake glances down at my hand on his arm, his eyebrow raised. "Then please take your hand off my arm, because that's weird."

He smirks as I pull my hand away and clutch them in my lap. "You know what I mean."

"I know," he says. "I'll be on my best behavior, scouts honor."

I glance down at my phone, shuddering at the time. "It's getting late. I've got to work in the morning so I should probably get going."

"Are you okay to drive?"

"Probably not," I say biting my lip. "I'll call a cab."

Unlocking my phone, I call for a cab. Grabbing my coat, I slid off the bar stool and stand, turning towards Jake.

He helped me into my coat, gripping my shoulders. "Thank you for coming tonight," he said. "Want me to walk you out?"

I shake my head no, adjusting my coat. "I'll be alright. So I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, sure; I'll give you my number. If you ever want to hang out, you know grab a coffee, see a movie, whatever, gimme a call."

"Okay," I say and create a new contact for Jake, adding his number. I tap out a quick text and hit send. "Now you have mine."

Jake smiles as he opens the text message and saves my number. "Can I give you a hug before you go?"

I nod as he opens his arms and step into his embrace. Jake wraps his arms around me, holding me tight against his chest. Warmth washed over me as a thousand memories flashed through my mind. He smelled like the past and feel like home. Stepping back, I suppress a shiver and flash him a smile.

"See you around, Jake."

He nods, his lips twisting into a half smile. "Later Bella."

Walking towards the exit, I pause at the door, glancing over my shoulder at Jake. He smiles and lifts his left hand, waving goodbye.

I nod and push the door open. The lobby is quiet as my heels click across the stone floor. Outside, the night air is crisp, clearing the cobwebs from my addled brain.

At the curb, a yellow taxi idles quietly. Making my way towards the waiting vehicle, I open the back door and slid in, giving the driver my address.

Leaning back against the vinyl seat, I close my eyes as I try to wrap my mind around what just happened. The trip across town takes less than ten minutes and I jolt awake as the taxi slows to a stop along the curb in front of my house.

Pulling a few bills from my wallet I pay the driver and exit the car. Buttery light guides me up the path as I retrieve my keys from my bag.

Entering the house, I make my way to my room and sit on the edge of the bed, unzipping my boot and pulling them off.

From my purse, my phone chimes. I dig it out and unlock it, pulling up the text message.

 _Hope you made it home okay. Thank you again for coming. Good night._

I smile reflexively and tap out a response.

 _I'm home. Have a good night._

His response comes almost immediately. _Glad you made it. Want to have lunch tomorrow?_

My smile drops as I reread his message. Biting my lip, I type my response. _I don't think so. Maybe another time._

Locking my phone, I set it on the nightstand and lay down, staring up at the ceiling. My emotions battle inside my head. Part of me knows I forgave him too easily, the other part wonders if I've actually forgiven him.

Another part says that I've been angry with him for too long…that it's time to let it go and move on.

And a small sliver says that there is no way to ever forgive what he did. No way to forgive him for leaving me broken and desolate.

An even smaller part warns me that trying to be friends with him is a bad idea.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Bella

Present

At first, I avoided Jake after our night in the bar. The wounds were ripped open and bleeding again, however, he persevered. Finally, after two weeks of making excuses; book club, work, some random appointment or another, I ran out.

We spent weekends together getting to know the people we were now. I learned that Jake's dad had passed away two years ago, that his sisters were now married and one was expecting her second child.

Falling into an easy rhythm, it began to feel like the natural order of things. Almost as if the universe was correcting a mistake in the fabric of fate. Fall faded into full on winter with snow beginning to pile up on sidewalks and yards.

On an unusual Saturday alone running errands, I ducked into a coffee shop to escape the bitter cold numbing my fingers and toes. Joining the line, I stare up at the menu board trying to decide what I wanted. Lost in thought and unaware of what was going on around me, I felt the air behind me shift, crackling with electricity, body heat and the unmistakable scent of familiarity. My body registered his presence before my mind did.

"Fancy meeting you here," a deep voice murmured in my ear.

Fighting the shiver that threatened to race up my spine, I let his warm voice wash over me. I wanted to lean into him, let Jake wrap his arms around me and squeeze my broken parts back together.

Instead, I stepped forward as the line progressed toward the register and the frazzled looking barista. Glancing over my shoulder at his smiling face, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and turned toward him.

"Hey," I smiled. "What are you doing here?"

Still grinning, a mischievous look in his eyes, he shrugs. "Same as you, I guess. Getting warm. What are you up today?"

"Just running some errands," I reply, glancing away from his lopsided smile.

"Want to sit with me for a bit?"

I bit my lip, glancing around. "I don't know Jake. I have a lot to do today."

"You're acting weird," he says as he steps closer to me. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I shoot back. "We've just been spending a lot of time together. I've let things go that need to be taken care of and…" I trailed off, wondering how to phrase my next thought.

"Say it," he demanded, his playful grin dropping.

I glance around the crowded coffee shop very well aware that the man standing so close to me was not my husband and there were plenty of people who knew it. "I think we're spending too much time together. People are going to start getting the wrong idea."

Jake glances around the crowded coffee shop. "Come on Bella. You're not doing anything wrong if you sit with me. We're in a public place, there is nothing inappropriate going on." He runs his hands through his hair, his mouth in a grim line. "You act like we're having some kind of affair."

I step back automatically and cross my arms over my chest. The urge to say something I'll regret sets my tongue ablaze. Taking a deep breath, I glance up at him and say, "I'm not doing this with you."

"Doing what, Bella?"

I lean toward him, dropping my voice. "You know what, Jake. I'm not going to stand in a crowded coffee shop and argue with you; hell I'm not going to argue with you period so stop acting like a jerk, stop acting like I'm being paranoid because I don't want people to get the wrong impression."

"Who cares what they think?" he growls. "Are you not allowed to have friends? Would we even be having this conversation if I were a woman?"

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, counting to ten as I slowly exhale. "Why do you have to make everything so difficult?"

His eyes soften his stance relaxing. "I'm sorry," he answers.

"You always are," I reply.

"Please have coffee with me," he requests again.

Moving forward, he shifted behind me in the line, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his dark wash jeans. I nod wordlessly and approach the counter, placing and paying for my order. I step out of the way as Jake places his order and we move to find an available table.

I shrug out of my coat, draping it over the back of the chair and try to relax. He was right; despite feeling like I was doing something wrong, I wasn't. Sitting in a café, having a drink with an old friend was not a crime.

Jake settled into his seat across the table and props his elbows on the tabletop. "So what's new?"

"Nothing much," I shrug. "Anything going on with you?"

"Not much," he responds.

"That's good," I reply stiffly as I spin my cup in my hands, staring down at the lid.

Jake shrugs, looking around the coffee shop. "You're being weird, Bella."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah," he fumed, "you are."

I close my eyes and run my hands through my hair. I glance up at him with a sigh. "I'm not sure what's going on," I struggle. "I'm...this...what do you want from me, Jake? I'm so confused."

"What do I want from you?" he sneers. "What do you mean what do I want from you?"

I throw my hands into the air and bite back a growl. "I'm so confused. You come crashing back into my life after all this time and now you're everywhere. I mean, we talked, but the pieces, Jake...not all is forgiven."

"Jesus, Bella, what do you want from me?" he retorts.

I snap back in my seat and gape at him. "I don't want anything from you," I breathe.

He rolls his eyes and leans back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. "Yeah," he mutters. "Okay."

"No," I snap, leaning forward. "You're not allowed to do that. You walked out on me, alright. You left me. Not the other way around. I waited for you, Jake. I always waited for you. Every. Single. Time."

"Oh my god," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Yeah, when you finally explain why I wasn't good enough for you," I sneer at him. "And when you explain why you sat in that deli crying about how you wanted me and only me, then, what a few days later, you're out getting groped by the handsy blonde."

"Jesus Fucking Christ," he fumes, slapping his hands down on the table. Cups rattle as his fury builds. "She is my friend. Just my friend. She's actually married to one of my good friends. She heard I was in town and asked if we could get together. If you stuck around for more than ten seconds, you would've seen her husband join us."

Shame floods me. Hanging my head, I stare down at my hands and his words reverberate in my skull.

"What? Nothing to say?" he mocks.

"Jake, I-"

"Look...I gotta..." he pushes away from the table, standing."I got stuff to do."

He grabs his cup and makes his way to the door. I stand, starting after him. "Jake wait!"

He pushes the door open and steps onto the busy sidewalk as I race after him. "Jake!"

I follow him down the block, dodging pedestrians as I call his name. I skid to a stop behind him, grab his sleeve, give it a tug. "Will you please stop?"

"What?" he shouts, turning toward me. "Are you gonna yell at me some more, remind me again about how much I screwed your life up?"

"I'm sorry," I wheeze. "I'm so, so sorry."

Tears fill my eyes as he shakes his head in disgust. Jake turns, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Why do we do this to each other?" he asks. "Why do we tear each other apart?"

"I think it's just the way we are," I murmur. "I think us hurting each other is the only way we feel alive."

"I think so," he agrees.

"I don't know how to not be mad at you," I admit softly. "I've been mad at you for so long that I have no idea how to not be mad at you."

He turns toward me, gripping my shoulders beneath his massive hands. "Yeah," he breathes. "I only wanted what was best for you."

"You were what was best for me," I choke, emotion strangling me. "Why couldn't that be enough?" Tears fill my eyes, dripping down my cheeks. Sobs rise in my throat, birthing anguish into the brittle winter air.

Jake steps forward wrapping his arms around me. He pulls me tight against his chest, he holds me steadily, his fingers tracing small circles on my back. "I'm sorry, Bella," he whispers into my hair. "I'm so sorry I hurt you."

My tears soak his shirt as we stand in the middle of the sidewalk, him holding me as I sob into his chest. Instantly, it's as if the last four years never happened, and I'm kicked back to twenty-four, in love with this man and my heart was still whole. The pain I wore like an albatross faded. His arms tightening, pulling me more firmly against his chest. My cheek resting in the hollow of his chest, the scent of his cologne tickling my nose. Standing there wrapped in his embrace, it felt like everything I ever lost had come back to me.

The sensation was overwhelming, foreign. I hadn't been this free in years and it rocked me to the core, made my head spin. I forgot how good it was to occupy this space, how warm his embrace was how it seemed like there was nothing in the world that could ever hurt me. I sigh in contentment, sniffling.

Jake's arms loosened as my tears subsided. Peering down at me, he swipes at my tears with the pad of his thumb. "Alright?"

I nod, rubbing at my eyes. "Sorry," I mumble.

"It's perfectly alright." He rubs my shoulders one last time, he steps away awkwardly shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "Are you hungry by any chance?"

"Famished," I reply.

"Good, let's go get something to eat."

Fifteen minutes later we were sitting in a booth in the back of a diner, bowls of soup steaming the air between us. We sat in silence, Jake playing with the salt shaker as I idly stirred my soup.

Tension lingered between us, thicker than the steam. Unable to handle the quiet, I clear my throat and peer up at him from beneath my eyelashes.

"What now?" I ask breaking the silence.

Jake startles, glancing at me. "What do you mean?"

"Are we honestly going to keep trying to be friends?"

"Is that what you want?" he questions.

I nod almost imperceptibly. "I think so." Clearing my throat, I speak again. "I don't want another four years to go by before I hear from you again."

Jake nods thoughtfully, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "I missed you," he states. "I missed you so much sometimes I thought it would kill me."

"Why didn't you come back?"

He looks down, his expression thoughtful. "About a week after I left, I...bought a plane ticket and went to the airport; but when they started boarding the plane I couldn't board it. I thought about you and how I just...ran away. I couldn't face you because I didn't have a good enough reason for leaving you like that. I knew you were going to be pissed and hurt and I wasn't sure what to say. So I stayed away. I figured I hurt you enough for a hundred lifetimes and I couldn't do it again."

I pull my arms around my stomach and hug myself closely. "I wish you would've come back. I wouldn't care that you left."

"I see that now," he replies as he reaches across the table for me.

I lean away. Not wanting him to touch me, unable to handle the sensation of his skin against mine in a way that would never be again.

In some ways that made me more upset than never seeing him again; the thought of having him but not in that way caused an ache in my chest more painful than all the surgeries and lost babies ever did.

Blinking back tears, I turn to gaze out the window. People mill about, entering and exiting shops as the gray sky threatens precipitation, their jackets and scarves pulled tight against the elements.

"Where do we go from here?" I ask, my gaze still diverted.

"I'm not sure," Jake sighs. "I'm genuinely lost. Maybe we just keep hanging out. Doing whatever it is that friends do."

I smirk at my reflection in the window. "And what is that, exactly?"

"Beats me, but if I know us, we'll figure it out. Somehow, we always do."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Jake  
Present

Screaming tires shriek through the darkness. Somewhere in the distance, a woman screams; a baby wails in harmony with her desperate howling. Smoke tickles my nose. I reach up, rubbing the itch away. When I remove my hand, the pleasant aroma of gasoline greets me, followed by the scent of burning flesh. I take an involuntary step back.

"Help me!"

I whirl around, my feet gliding effortlessly on the pavement as I peer into the pitch blackness of the inky night, searching for the source of the call.

"Where are you?" I call. Taking a step forward, my feet seem to move on their own accord; moving forward blindly. My sneakers slap against the wet pavement, juicy and sucking sounds faint under the wailing of the woman who continues screaming incoherently.

Her cries turn my blood to ice water, the pain and hurt in her calls breaks my heart. I continue forward, my hands grabbing the empty air in front of me. Adrenaline and panic fight their way through my body as I search for the disembodied voice.

In the darkness, my fingers touch upon something cold and sticky. The heavy scent of iron tinges the air. I suck a breath in as I pull my hand away. The world seems to shift as a light flares overhead, casting a pool of light on a body kneeling on the street before me.

Rushing toward the crouched figure, its head raises, mangled hair sliding away from the face. She peers up at me, her face bruised and bloodied. In her arms is a pile of bloody rags, she rocks violently, her mangled fingers caressing the limp pile manically.

"Bella?" I gasp.

Her eyes are haunted as they narrow. She stops mocking momentarily and stares at me; shooting hateful and disgusted daggers in my direction. As I approach, she thrusts the bundle of rags towards me.

"Jake," she hisses. "Meet your son."

The dirty, blood-stained blankets fall away, revealing a skull no bigger than the palm of my hand.  
Sucking in a breath, I sit straight up in bed, clutching my chest. My heart slams against my ribs as the dream lingers around me. I can still smell the gasoline and blood. Sucking a shaky breath, I lean across the bed and flick the light on, flooding the room with soft golden light.

The brightness chases away the remaining demons. I roll out of bed and stumble to the bathroom on weak knees. Leaning against the counter, I inhale through my nose and hold the air in my lungs, waiting for them to start burning before I blow slowly through pursed lips.

Panic claws at my throat, terror tearing its way through my mind. I suck in another breath and close my eyes. My brain immediately calls the image of dream Bella to the forefront of my mind and my eyes snap open. I exhale as I stare at my pale, sweat soaked reflection in the mirror.

I reach for a plastic cup; fill it with cold water then down it in a single gulp. Somewhat calmer, I crumble the cup and leave it lying on the counter.

Walking away from the sink, I crank the shower on. Shrugging off my sweat soaked sweatpants and t-shirts; I step into the scalding spray.

I haven't had a nightmare in years; at least not on that fucked me up as bad as this one did. Pressing my palms to the cool tile, I dip my head, submerging it under the water. Blister water rushes over me, moisture beading on my skin from the steam and yet I still feel chilled.

It's time for me to get out of town, I think as the water rolls over me. It's time for me to pack my bags and haul ass out of town.

The urge to run makes my muscles twitchy. I can't do it, though. Not again. I can't leave Bella again. I won't. Not until I have her back in my life.

Leaning back, I turn my face into the water. She's married a voice in my head whispers.  
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I try to tune the voice out, desperate to find a way to drive it from my mind but the thought echoes, crashing around my skull until it's unbearable.

Shutting the water off, I step out of the shower. The nightmare lingers, hanging on me like a shroud, this heavy thing that won't be shaken off. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I step back into the room and pull on a clean pair of sweatpants.

Grabbing my laptop on my way back to bed, I sink into the mattress and power it on. As the welcome screen fades into my wallpaper, a soft ding echoes through the tinny speakers, a box popping up in the middle of the screen.

 _Are you awake?_

Kicking the twisted sheets out of the way, I settle against the headboard, resting the laptop on my thighs. I glance at the clock on the nightstand, taking in the time.

 _Yeah, I'm awake,_ I type back _. Couldn't sleep. Why are you up so late?_

As I wait for her response, I wonder why she was awake at quarter after two in the morning.  
 _I couldn't sleep. I've been lying on the couch watching some show on Netflix; why couldn't you sleep?_

I frown at the screen, debating whether or not to tell her the truth. My fingers tap the keys as I search for the right thing to say. With a sigh, I decide on the truth.

 _I have these...dreams sometimes. They're...well, let's just say they freak me out. I was asleep, but I had one of the dreams for the first time in a long time. It wigged me out and now I'm wide awake. Truthfully, I'm kinda scared to try and go back to sleep._

Three dots dance across the screen as Bella types her response. It comes quickly, flashing across the screen.

 _Tell me more. What did you dream about?_

I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to describe what I see in my subconscious. The thought of describing the dream to her is slightly more terrifying than the dream itself.  
 _Bella, I really...I don't want to talk about. I don't want to relive it._

I hit the enter key and wait for her reply. On the nightstand to my right, my phone vibrates loudly against the particle board. I pick it up and swipe the screen.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," she replies softly.

"I don't want to talk about it, Bella," I say gruffly.

"Why not?"

"Because..." I let my sentence run off as I run my hands through my damp hair. Maybe I should tell her. Perhaps I should let her see how dark and twisty my mind is. "They're about you, about that night. But worse, scarier in a way. You're not you in the dreams. You're like this...I dunno, crazier version of yourself. Every time, you're screaming for help and it's dark and then a light comes on and you're bruised and holding this bundle of blood-stained blankets, rocking it, like it's a baby but it's not. It's just bones."

Bella gasps her breath a sharp hiss on the other end of the line. "Jake," she breathes, sympathy lacing her voice.

"Don't," I order. "I don't deserve your sympathy."

"But-"

"But nothing. They're just dreams, Bella. A mental representation of the guilt I feel over what happened that night. I've read enough on dreams to at least know that much. It's not a big deal. Like I said, it's been a long time since I've had one."

"I'm coming over."

"Bella," I snap, "You don't need to, I'm fine."

"Jake," she shoots back. "I'm coming over."

Silence greets me on the opposite end of the line. I pull the phone away from my ear, scowling at the blank screen. Knowing there's nothing to do now but wait; I turn to the computer and scroll through emails. As I skim the page, discerning the important from the unimportant, I spot a message I was waiting for and open it. Scanning the attached document, I read over the details. So absorbed in the task, I almost didn't hear the knock at the door.

"Jake, open the door." Bella pounds again on the hotel room door, her knocking persistent, her voice tinged with anger.

I close the computer and slide off the bed, padding quietly across the carpeted floor to the door. Throwing the deadbolt, I open the door and peer down at Bella's makeup free face. She smiles, pushes the door open and elbows her way past me.

"Sure, come in," I mutter closing the door behind her.

Bella rounds on me, her hands on her hips, her expression thunderous. "You need to stop being a jackass."

"I'm sorry?"

"We've talked about that night a hundred times. We've dissected it and tore it apart; rebuilt ourselves from the rubble and you never once told that you had - excuse me - have, nightmares about it. We could've talked about it, Jake. I could have helped you through it."

Anger surges through me. How could she help me? Bella doesn't understand the weight of guilt that I carry with me about that night. I've told her about some of it, but the lingering heaviness, the nightmares the consuming fire of regret are things no one will ever understand. I cross the room and grab her arm roughly. "How could you help me?"

"Because I have them too!" she shouts. "There are some nights that I don't sleep because I'm afraid of what waits for me in the dark."

Bella's chest rises and falls rapidly, strands of hair dancing in her breath. Her balled fists shake, traveling up her arms as her entire body quivers.

"Too many nights I've laid in bed staring at the ceiling as the images of that night play over and over in my head. I've laid there thinking of all the things I would say if I ever saw you again. I hated you for so long and now; now it seems like we're getting back to what we used to be all those years ago and you go and hide something like this from me?"

I stand there, so close to her that I can smell the floral scent of her shampoo. She's never looked more beautiful than she does now with her face tinged with the telltale redness of anger, her cornflower blue eyes stormy with unexpressed rage.

She is the light in my darkness, a beacon shining brightly that guides me away from the edge. She is my world and I don't want to wait for her anymore. Closing the gap between us, I cup her heated face in my hands, guiding my face to hers. Our lips collide like ships in the night; a thousand memories flood my mind, flashing by at lightning speed. The years fall away and suddenly I'm sixteen again and kissing her for the first time.

Bella gasps, her lips parting, as her hand's snake around my neck, her fingers plunging into my hair. I tilt her head back, sliding my tongue across her parted lips. Her body softens, melting into mine. I slide my fingers along her jaw, through her hair and hold her gently against me.

So lost in the moment, I don't register her pushing me away. She slaps my chest, shoving me away from her as she stumbles back. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her lips pink and swollen, her eyes wide with fear.

Confused, I step toward her, my hands outstretched, reaching for her already missing the warmth of her body in my arms.

"No!" she holds out her hand, her finger pointing at me. "Stop. What were you thinking?" Bella shakes her head, the fear fading from her eyes as shock takes its place. "I'm married, Jake. I have a husband that I love very much." She sucks in a shaky breath. "It's not like this between us anymore." Tears gather in her eyes as she shakes her head, muttering under her breath.

Wait, what? A hold opens in my chest, the darkness spilling out and filling me, dragging me back under.

"I'm sorry."

I'm not. Not really. Did she honestly not feel that; what we had and what we could have again if she would allow it?

Bella glances around; her eyes overflowing as silver tears trail down her face. "I have to -oh god," she moans. "I gotta go."

In one fluid movement, she turns and runs for the door, wrenching it open and disappearing into the hall. I watch her go through the haze of darkness descending upon me. When the door clicks shut, my body automatically goes after her. Fear swallows me as I run after her.

That night four years ago plays on a loop in my mind as I see the cabin and her running out the door. I throw the door open and bolt into the hallway. Thankful for the late hour and clear hallway, I chase after Bella, skidding to a stop just as the brushed silver doors slide shut.

"Goddamn it," I growl, my fist pounding against the door.

I'd screwed it up again. Go figure.

Pushing off the door, I make my way back down the hall to my room. As I stand in front of the locked door searching my pockets, I realize in my haste to catch Bella I forgot my key card.

Fighting the urge to rage against the innocent sleek door, I turn. Gathering my wits and reigning in my temper I make my way back to the elevator.

Stabbing the call button, the doors glide open with a whisper. Stepping inside, I push the button for the lobby.

Pacing the small space, I run my hands through my hair as my mind berates me repeatedly for making such a stupid decision.

When the doors reopen, I disembark; my bare feet slap the cool marble tile as I make my way to the desk. The clerk glances up, her eyebrows rising in surprise as she takes in my bare chest and loose sweatpants.

Informing her I locked myself out of my room, she fumbles behind the desk for a blank card. Seconds later she's smiling at me like a school girl with a crush and handing me a new key card. I thank her and make my way back to the elevator.

Back in my room, I grab my phone from the night table and unlock it. There are no missed calls, no texts or messages. I thought for sure she would've blown up my phone. Yelling at me on voicemails or her personal favorite, scalding messages written to maim and destroy me.

I sink down onto the edge of the mattress and stare at the screen. Without thinking, I dial her number. Voicemail picks up immediately so I hand up. Pulling up my text messages I tap on out.

 _I understand if you don't want to talk to me, but at least let me know if you've made it home. Okay?_

I hit send and drop my phone onto the bed beside me. Shoving myself down, I tuck my hands behind my head and stare at the ceiling.

I fucked it up good this time. And unlike all the times before, I don't think there's any way back from it.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Bella  
Present

The frigid air slaps my face as I run across the parking lot, searching for my car. Fumbling in my purse for my keys, my hands shake violently. Whether it was the cold or the confusion coursing through me, I know not. Legs like jelly wobble unsteadily beneath me, carrying me slowly to my waiting car. Still rifling through my bag, my fingers brush the key ring.

I grab it, yanking them forcefully from the bottom of my bag, the contents of which fly out, showering the asphalt.

Exhaling shakily, my breath hovers around my head, a thick white cloud around my face. I drop to my knees, hastily collecting my scattered belongings. Tears fill my eyes as I shove my things back into my purse.

Rain mists from the sky, dampening my hair, sending rivulets into my eyes. I wipe the drops away, my fingers brushing my swollen lips. I drop my hands to my lap as tears once again fill my eyes.

Why did he have to go and do that? Why did he have to ruin everything we rebuilt? Raising my hands to my puffy lips, I brush the tips over the sensitive skin as revulsion fills my stomach.

Oh God, what is Paul going to say when he finds out?

Bile races up my throat. I turn my head to the side and gag, my stomach cramping as it fights to dispel the contents within.

Oh, Paul, I think as I dry heave again. I didn't want him to kiss me. I truly didn't.

Right?

The brief memory of my arms going around Jake's neck, thrusting my hands into his hair flash through my mind causing me to heave again.  
I didn't want him to kiss me, did I?

No, I think shaking my head. No, I did not.

Anger replaces the shock. Wiping the back of my hand across my mouth, I square my shoulders and finish collecting my things from the wet pavement. Rising, I take a deep breath and head to my car, clutching the keys so tightly in my fist; the pain a welcome relief from the fear and anger and dismay coursing through my body.

Clicking the button on the key fox, I unlock my car and slide behind the wheel, angrily jamming the key into the ignition. The car grumbles to life, a thick cloud of white exhaust billowing near the trunk.

Throwing it into reverse, I back out of the space slowly, fighting the urge to peel out of the parking lot in a cloud of burnt rubber and squealing tires.

This night reminds me of that same night four years ago. The hurt and anger I feel about and towards Jake is the same as it was back then. This time, though, there won't be a horrific car accident that completely shatters and alters my life.

No, there won't be a car accident, but an accident of another kind which will certainly change the course of my life yet again.

I make my way through the abandoned streets automatically; my mind focused more on reprimading me than driving. Why? Why did I think it was a good idea to go to his hotel room in the middle of the night? There was no reason for me to do that. Deep down, part of me understands why he thought it was okay to kiss me. I showed up, I know how he feels and I still went, I still fought to be a part of his life. Because having him in my life as a friend was better than not having him at all, right?

Stupid, stupid, stupid, I think as I pound the steering wheel.

If I'm being honest with myself, a bigger part of me is more conflicted about everything that happened tonight than I'm willing to admit. I can't deny the lingering attraction and feelings I still harbor for him. I tell myself it's the echo of feelings, ghost emotions haunting my heart.

We have a history; unresolved feelings toward each other, hell maybe even a bit of unrequited love - especially on my part. I spent so much time loving him and him not feeling the same way that maybe I gave off a vibe that said I was still in love with him.

I can own up to that. I was so angry at Paul for never being home, for not being around more. I was, am, lonely and desperately wanting to be wanted and loved; needed. Perhaps I held onto Jake tighter to eradicate those feelings.

It wasn't Paul's fault that I feel the way I do. I'd never told him, never asked him to come home, to be closer to me. To love me harder, hold me tighter. He thought he was doing everything right when I felt like he was doing everything wrong.

One thing is clear to me now, though. The deception and subterfuge had to stop. I need to come clean to him, about everything.

Dread fills my stomach. I was about to lay all my dirty laundry out in front of my husband and ask him to accept the fact I deceived him numerous times. The idea of him walking away set fire to my anxiety.

I turn into the driveway and peer up at the dark house as it stares all knowingly down at me. The walls inside that house knew my secrets, watched me laugh and cry, witnessed things no one else had. The house saw pain and love and in the very near future would bear witness to the death of a marriage as well as the two hearts beating within.

Choking back a sob, I shut the car off and step out. Shuffling up the walk, I wearily climb the stairs and let myself in, locking the door behind me as I drop my keys and purse on the floor. Kicking off my shoes, I shuffle to the couch and drop down in the middle. Scooting back, I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, hugging myself tightly.

As I sit there feeling sorry for myself, the shrill ringing of my cell phone cuts through the otherwise silent house, echoing off the walls and reverberating back to me. Ice water coursed through my veins, filling me with dread. There could only be two people calling this late at night. Either something happened to Paul or my dad.

Vaulting off the couch, I slide across the carpeted floor scooping up my bag and sinking to my knees, I rifle through the contents until my fingers brush against the vibrating device.

Without looking at the screen, I swipe across the screen and breathe out, "Hello?"

"Thank God you answered," Jake's concerned voice hums across the line.

"I have nothing to say to you," I bite out. "Don't call me again. Good-"

"Bella, wait!"

"No Jake," I snap. "I'm not waiting. I don't have anything to say to you. I'm done with all of this. You come crashing back into my life and you've managed to do is wreck everything. I don't need this anymore. I don't want it. Just..." I sigh into the phone, the fight draining out of me. "Go away Jake. Go home, or don't. I don't care. Just leave me alone."

As I pull the phone away from my ear, his tearful voice crackles over the line. "I'm so sorry, Bella."

Ending the call, I drop the phone to the floor and crawl back to the couch. Curling up, I clutch a throw pillow to my chest. Tears fill my eyes as I close them, moisture overflowing through my lashes.

What a mess.

A complete and utter mess.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Bella

War waged inside me. Tell Paul what happened? Say nothing? Stay? Go? A thousand questions, all answerless and repetitive bounced around the inside of my skull as each one pierced my heart.

Stomach sick, heart sicker.

I thought by now I would have more answers, but the more answers I receive, the more questions I have. Do I still love Jake? Do I actually even love Paul?

Jesus Christ, my mind rages Get your shit together and just figure this out already!

The smaller, quieter section of my brain decides to chime in at this point. You don't love either of them because you don't even love yourself.

Standing in the middle of the living, cell phone clutched in my slippery palms, I slide to my knees, back against the couch.

A shrill ring breaks through the silent house, a startled gasp erupts from my parted lips and the vibrating phone slips from my shaking hand.

Quivering fingers reach for the humming device skittering across the floor. Turning it over, Jake's number flashing on the screen and I don't think before accepting the call and whispering, "Hello?"

"Please don't hang up," he whispers in lieu of a greeting. "I know I screwed up. You probably don't ever want to see me again, but I need to talk to you. Please, Bella."

Tears pool in my eyes and slip down my cheeks. "What more is there to say?"

"I made a mistake," he says softly. His voice is laced with regret, years and years worth of sorrow; it's almost unbearable.

"Yeah, Jake, you did." I sigh and tuck my knees under me. "What's done is done, though."

"What now?"

I swallow hard. I realize what I have to do but I cannot fathom how. I don't know how to let him go even though I'm so well versed in the art of letting him go. I've been doing it for fifteen years.

I shake my head, the realization that this time is different. This is the last time I'll ever let him go; there will never be the chance for reconciliation. I suck in a deep breath, letting it fill my chest until my lungs burn.

"Jake-" I pause as emotions threaten to steal my will. "We can't do this anymore. We can't be friends; we can't see each other or talk."

I stop and take another deep breath as my vision dances before my eyes, the living room walls swaying. "I guess to put this plainly; I'm breaking up with you. Once I hang up the phone I don't want you to call me or text me or email me; I'm leaving everything behind. You, me, the past, the friendship. All of it. We aren't' lovers, we aren't a couple, hell we aren't even friends. I started all of this because I wanted to find a way to forgive you for what happened four years ago. I still don't know if I have or if I ever will. But I think I have a sense of peace about the whole situation. I think you want more and you're never going to get it but I don't think that is ever going to stop you from trying. And I can't live in the middle of an emotional tug of war."

Silent static crackles over the line, hissing, and popping. I bite my lip, gnawing on it as I wait for him to say something. An eternity seems to pass before he finally says, "Okay then. Have a great life." And the line goes dead.

Dropping the phone away from my ear, I stare at the walls until spots start dancing before my eyes. Terror claws at my throat as reality crashes in. I've permanently ended things, closed the final chapter on the story of Jake and Bella; chapter who-knows-anymore-because-this-story-has-dragged-on-forever.

The overwhelming desire to flee, to jump in the car and drive until I have no idea where I am, crashes over me and before I realize what I'm doing, I'm on my feet racing through the house, ripping open drawers and tossing clothes on the bed. A suitcase appears and hands that are seemingly my own are throwing things inside.

Stuffed beyond capacity, I struggle to zip it, angry cries escaping my lips as my fingers fight the zipper. As the slider makes its final journey around the teeth, I heave the bulky case from the bed and drag it down the hallway. Grabbing my car keys and wallet I rush out of the house and throw the suitcase into the backseat.

Sliding behind the wheel, tires screeching out of the driveway, I'm racing down the road, destination unknown, the sleeping city dark beyond the window. Instinctively, I make turns, stop at all the appropriate traffic lights and find myself heading east on the highway. The cold night air, tinged with the heavy scent of rain, filters in through the cracked window, carrying the heady scent of the sea.

I can feel the pull of the ocean, her siren song beckoning me home to the one place that always held the cure for what ailed me.

Much of the drive was spent listening to the faint, almost haunting sound of songs coming across the radio intermittently and staring listlessly out the windshield as the car seemingly drove itself.

The midnight sky lightened from a bruised black-blue to navy as the sun began its ascent. I watched with heavy eyes as the sun peeked over the horizon, the sky lightening with each passing second. I followed the signs off the highway to a hotel and wearily pulled into the parking lot. Scrubbing my hands over my bleary eyes, I shut the car off and heaved my aching body out of the car. Trudging to the office I paid for a room, accepted the key and let myself into a musty room. Collapsing on the cigarette scented comforter, I closed my eyes and let sleep steal me away from the nightmare that had become my life.

Two days after abandoning my life, I caught a glimpse of the ocean. I had no idea where I was, nor did I care. I was off the grid, having left my cell phone at home, no one knew where I was and I found solace in that.

I could be anyone I wanted to be. I could be the woman who has her life all perfectly put together, who knows exactly what she wants out of life and where she wants to be. Or I could be no one at all.

I check into a hotel with ocean front access and lug my suitcase into a room facing the ocean. The sun is glittering on the blue surf and I stand at the window staring out at the empty expanse of ocean and sky. I am minuscule in the face of all that, a spec on the map of the universe; unimportant and inconsequential. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I don't mind being utterly alone.

Turning away from the window, I glance around the room wondering what came next. What was my plan?

Sinking down to the edge of the bed I run my hands through my hair and wonder what in the actual hell my problem is? How did I get here?

Rhetorical question, a sarcastic voice pipes up in my mind. You know exactly how you got here.

I shake my head and mentally smack myself. Standing quickly, I spin around searching for the phone. Spying it on the nightstand I dial the only number I have committed to memory.

A few rings and a gruff voice barks out, "Hello?" with a hint of curiosity lingering in that final syllable.

"Paul?" I ask as if anyone other than him would be answering his phone.

"Bella?" he queries back. "Is that you?"

"Yes," I breathe. "It's me."

"Whose number are you calling me from? Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm fine," I tell him as I nervously twist the phone cord around my finger. "I'm at the beach, though I'm not sure which one, hell I'm not even sure where I am other than on the beach somewhere." I take a deep breath and exhale shakily. "And no, I don't think I'm okay."

"Bella, what is going on?"

"I-" Pausing, I struggle to find the right words. "I really don't know, Paul. I don't know. I feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind and everything in my head is so twisted up and messed up. I felt like I was going crazy so I did the only thing I could think of to figure it out. I drove, Jesus Christ I drove for a couple of days until I found the ocean and I checked into some hotel." I stop, my eyes staring at the horizon, the glistening blue of the ocean burning my retinas. "I needed some space to figure out what is wrong with me because I really don't know. I don't know if I'm wired different than other people, if I crave the chaos and the disaster because there's something comforting in it, or if I'm the kinda person who can't love or if I'm just hopelessly broken inside."

"Bella," Paul cuts in. "What are you talking about?"

"So much, Paul." I sigh, tears prickling my eyes. I rub my free hand across my face, wiping them away. I'm so sick of crying, so sick of feeling like a prisoner in my own life, a slave to my own emotions. I'm sick of feeling weak and helpless; or relying on everyone else to put me back together.

"I don't know when I became so weak, so spineless and complacent. I hate feeling this way, but I can't seem to change it and...I'm sick of it."

"You're one of the strongest people I know, Love. What do you mean you're weak?"

"That's just it," I snap. "You don't know me, Paul. You don't know anything about me!"

"Hold the hell on," he snaps back. "What are you talking about; I don't know anything about you? You're my goddamn wife; I know everything I need to know about you."

"Really Paul? You truly think you know everything about me?" I seethe, already hating the direction this conversation has drifted in. I didn't intend for this to happen when I picked up the phone. I wanted to do this in person, I wanted to look him in the eye when I said the words that are about to vomit out of my mouth. I can feel them barreling up my throat but am unable to stop or corral my voice. "Then tell me, did you know before I met you when I was in that car accident I was also pregnant? That my unborn child died in the accident? Oh, and did you also know the father of that child was in town and I've been spending time with him? Or that he kissed me three days ago?"

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" His anger flares across the line, white hot and seething with rage.

"You heard me," I spit. "He kissed me and if I'm being a hundred percent honest, part of me wanted him to. Part of me wanted to know if the feelings I had for him four years ago were still there now."

"Are they?" he bites out.

"Yes."

The single syllable word echoes across the line, bouncing back and forth between us. I see the proverbial cliff flying at my face, but like the driver whose brake lines have been cut, I am unable to stop, to heed the caution signs warning me that I just threw my life as I knew it over said cliff.

"Well then," he finally says his voice flat and devoid of the anger that was fueling it only minutes ago, "I suppose that's that then."

"I guess it is."

I drop the receiver back into the cradle and lie down on the bed staring up at the ceiling. Sunlight dances across the white popcorn, rippling and shimmering. Dread fills my stomach as a single thought bounces through my head.

What the hell did I just do?


End file.
